


A Simple Contract

by Fragged, SeekingIdlewild



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Soul Bond, alien!Rush, prince!Rush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4362695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fragged/pseuds/Fragged, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeekingIdlewild/pseuds/SeekingIdlewild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In exchange for crucial provisions, Young agrees to bond with a shapeshifting alien prince. He thinks it's just a contract. He's mistaken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chloe turned a small, green, dodecahedron-shaped berry over in her fingers, fascinated by the way the light filtered through it almost as if it were a gemstone.

"Those are really good," Eli remarked. He was seated at the table beside her, eating his way through a plate full of fruits, vegetables, spiced breads and some sort of meat substitute that was surprisingly delicious, and he looked like he was in heaven.

They were in some type of dining hall, massive but austere, with few furnishings other than the chairs and tables scattered around it. The walls on two sides were made up mostly of windows, and rich sunlight poured into the room. Through the window directly opposite her table, she could see part of the ruins that she had explored with Eli, Matt, and Greer earlier. And somewhere beyond those ruins, out of sight, was the Stargate.

"How much longer do we have until Destiny jumps back into FTL?" she asked. As much as she was enjoying this unexpected meal and the hospitality of a very real, very much _not_ extinct civilization of aliens, she certainly didn't want to get stranded here.

"Two hours," Eli said between mouthfuls. "Relax."

Chloe wished she could be as sanguine as he seemed to be. She wasn't entirely sure what it was that had her feeling so off balance, but the aliens (they had no translatable name for themselves, so they were just 'the aliens,' as opposed to 'the blue aliens,' which she wasn't thinking about) certainly had something to do with it. They were all quite friendly, but there was something terribly eerie about them. Perhaps it was the fact that they looked human and spoke perfect English, even though they had only encountered humans for the first time just a little over an hour ago. They had described themselves as shapeshifters, and explained that they could adapt their forms and their speech to those of any race that they encountered. They could even absorb details about another race's culture just by being in their general vicinity. Why none of that seemed to bother Eli, Chloe couldn't figure out. It clearly had Greer on edge, and even Matt looked vaguely worried as he stared across the room.

Chloe followed Matt's gaze and spotted Colonel Young talking with a group of the smiling aliens in a corner. The colonel's expression was completely impenetrable. There was no telling what he was thinking right now, or whether he liked any of the things the aliens were saying to him. Privately, she was glad he was here. She still had some mixed feelings about him, but she definitely trusted him more than the aliens.

Young had joined the impromptu dinner party at the aliens' express invitation. After Chloe, Eli, Matt, and Greer had stumbled across one of the aliens in a tunnel (she had looked like giant spider at the time, and Greer had nearly pumped her full of lead before she'd had time to shapeshift into human form and beg him not to shoot), their new acquaintance had led them out of the tunnels and away from the ruins. Once they had reached a certain point, a city suddenly materialized out of thin air in front of them.

"Cloaked," the alien had explained to them, grinning. "It's safer for us if foreigners who come through the Stargate think that all intelligent life on this planet is already dead. But now you know better. Go fetch your leader, and then join us for a meal. You have Ancient technology," she nodded to the kino remote in Eli's hands, "And we have some knowledge of the Ancients. We should share information."

And so Matt had radioed Destiny, and Young had considered it wise to accept the aliens' invitation.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Chloe murmured.

Greer was also eyeing the colonel, and his expression was grim. "I don't know, but I don't think he likes it."

'I'd say you're right," Matt said.

They watched as Young shifted slightly, slipped his hands in his pockets, and flashed a humorless smile. He nodded briefly and made some comment that seemed to please the aliens.

"They're probably just talking about trading information," Eli said as he scooped up the last of his steamed vegetables on the serrated, spatula-like utensil that seemed to take the place of both a fork and a knife and which, in Chloe's opinion, performed both functions inadequately. "You know, about the Ancients. Like they said they wanted to. I'm guessing the colonel will have me running back to Destiny in a few minutes to compile all the data we've unlocked so far. You know, if he even agrees to the trade."

Chloe popped the green berry into her mouth and chewed meditatively as she watched the progress of Young's conversation with the aliens. Young smiled again, and this time the expression was warmer and more genuine. He nodded again, said something that clearly pleased the aliens, and then accepted a small, black, spherical object from one of them.

"Looks like he's gonna agree," Greer murmured. "I hope food is part of the bargain, at least."

Young parted from the group with a few awkward handshakes that the aliens seemed to find quite interesting. He crossed the room, his boots making no sound on the strange, springy floor, and approached their table.

"What did they give you?" Eli asked before Young could even get a word out.

Young passed the small sphere to Eli. "A sort of hard drive, I think. They said it's compatible with Ancient technology."

"How do they even know about the Ancients way out here?" Eli asked as he examined the sphere.

Young pulled out the empty chair next to Greer, directly across from Chloe, and took a seat. "Apparently they captured a seed ship some twenty planetary years ago. They've been studying it ever since. They know about Destiny and they're pretty excited that she's here."

"Not for too much longer," Chloe commented. She pushed her half-full plate of food across the table towards Young. "You haven't had any yet, have you? I can't eat anymore."

"I haven't. Thanks," Young said, needing no persuasion. He picked up a piece of bread, took a large bite, and then closed his eyes as he savored it. The expression on his face was so artlessly blissful that Chloe found herself feeling almost fond of him.

Eli was still poking at the spherical hard drive. "So I guess I'm putting all we've got from Destiny's database on here, then?"

Young lingered over his bread for another moment before swallowing and opening his eyes. "As much as you can download in the time you have. One of the aliens is getting a vehicle now. He'll take you to the Stargate to save time."

"There should be plenty of time," Eli said. "I mean, I'm guessing, but it's a good guess, because there's just not much of the database that we actually have access to without the master code."

"I made sure the aliens were aware of that," Young said. "They understand. They're just eager to get their hands on anything they can."

"So what are we getting from them?" Greer asked.

Young took another deliberate bite of bread, drawing out the suspense as he chewed. Four pairs of eyes watched him eagerly, and he seemed to find some small amusement in making them wait for an answer. But although he seemed to be in a fairly good humor, he was not in any way relaxed. There was a stiffness in his posture, and his movements were economical and controlled in a way that echoed Greer's and Matt's. All three of the soldiers were very much alert and on duty at the moment, but with Young it was even more obvious.

He was worried about something. They all were, at least nebulously (with the possible exception of Eli), but Chloe sensed that for Young, it was a specific concern.

"Food," Young said after he'd teased them long enough, "seeds for hydroponics, and all the supplies we need to grow more of that meat substitute in the lab, so our days of living on flavored protein soup are numbered."

"Woo!" Eli cheered.

"That's a pretty good deal," Matt said.

"There's more," Young continued. "We're getting medical supplies and equipment for the infirmary. Fabric for clothing - hopefully we have someone on board who can sew. Rechargeable weapons so we don't have to worry about our ammo shortage. And there are some other miscellaneous tools and supplies as well. Almost everything we need to be comfortable on that ship for a long time." He took another bite while he let that sink in.

Chloe's sense of uneasiness sharpened. It all sounded wonderful, but it also sounded too good to be true. "What's the catch?"

Young shot her an approving look that did nothing to make her feel any better.

"All that for a tiny little peek at Destiny's database?" Eli said, finally starting to show some of the wariness that Chloe had been feeling since she first met these aliens. "Yeah, that doesn't sound quite right."

"It's not," Young confirmed. His eyes searched the table distractedly, so Chloe handed him her spatula-knife. "Thanks." The odd utensil got no reaction from him, and Chloe had to remind herself that he'd been with the SGC for over a decade. He had probably seen everything by now.

Young scooped up a piece of the meat-like substance and tasted it. His brows went up, which Chloe assumed meant he approved. "So," he said after another moment, "The aliens have a sort of hereditary monarchy, and there's a prince in the line of succession that they're eager to get rid of. I understand he's an embarrassment to the royal family."

"So what, they want us to kill him?" Eli asked, eyes widening comically.

Young shot him an unimpressed look. "No, Eli, they don't want us to kill him."

Greer snorted.

"They want one of us to marry him."

That drew exclamations of disbelief from everyone. Young placidly took another bite and chewed as he watched their startled expressions. _This is false bravado_ , Chloe thought, finally putting her finger on what it was about his behavior that seemed so unnatural. _And he's drawing out this meal like it's his last one._

"They don't call it marriage," Young continued. "They call it bonding. And they can't justify forcing this guy out of the succession unless he 'bonds' with someone sufficiently important and goes away to live with them. Preferably forever."

"So why do they want to get rid of their prince?" Matt asked.

"According to them, he doesn't care anything about governing, and he's about as diplomatic as… well, some creature that I'm not familiar with, but which isn't very diplomatic, I'm assuming," Young said. "And he calls himself a scientist, which these aliens don't consider a suitable occupation for a prince."

"'Cause heaven forbid that your leaders are smart or anything," Eli grumbled. And then he shot a nervous glance at Young, who merely looked amused.

"Exactly," Young said.

"So…" Greer stretched out the word, scrunching up his nose as if he smelled something bad, "who exactly has to marry this guy?"

"Bond," Young corrected absently. "I do."

Oh. That explained the tension in his posture and movements, that hint of unease under his habitual veneer of calm. Chloe suddenly felt extremely sympathetic towards him. It was one thing for him to be willing to sacrifice his life to protect his crew. That was admirable, but it was also what she hoped to see in a commander. Marrying some alien he'd never seen before for the sake of the crew? _That_ was noble.

"But… aren't you married?" Eli asked.

"This isn't marriage," Young said patiently. "It's bonding."

"Sir, you don't have to do this," Matt said quietly. "We can go back to Destiny, ask for a volunteer."

Young shook his head. "I wouldn't ask anyone else to do this," he said. "It has to be me, anyway. Apparently being the commander of Destiny's crew makes me important enough to bond with a prince. I don't think they'll accept anyone else."

"This is bullshit," Greer muttered. "We don't need this."

Young smiled briefly, but it was one of his pained little smiles that always looked more like grimaces to Chloe. "Eli," he said, "Didn't you tell me that we're nearing the edge of this galaxy?"

Eli blinked at the sudden change of topic. "That's right."

"So we're going to need extra supplies to get us across the gap to the next one, or we're going to be pretty hungry by the time we arrive."

Eli shifted and looked uncomfortable. Chloe knew that he never liked feeling responsible for the more unpleasant decisions that the colonel had to make. "That's probably true, but--"

"And I can't in good conscience pass up on those medical supplies and equipment," Young interrupted. "Or the weapons. Or any of the other supplies they've offered us. Life-saving supplies."

He met each of their eyes in turn, lingering on Greer's for a moment. Greer still looked vaguely disgusted, but he acknowledged the colonel's words with a brief nod.

"Besides," Young added in a lighter tone, "this is just a business arrangement. And the prince in question is the aliens' leading expert on Ancient technology. He's been studying the seed ship since they captured it. He could be an asset."

"Asset or not, I'm keeping an eye on him," Greer muttered.

Before Young could reply, one of the aliens - a young man with red hair and freckles, Chloe noted and wondered what he looked like in his true form - walked up to their table. "I'm here to fly your scientist to the Stargate whenever he's ready," he said cheerfully.

Eli looked pleased and slightly embarrassed at being referred to as a scientist. "Yeah, I'm ready," he said, hopping to his feet. He looked questioningly at Young one more time, but the colonel only nodded at him.

"Go."

So Eli went. After he was gone, the feeling of tension at the table increased. "So now what?" Matt asked.

"Now," said Young as he focussed on scooping up some vegetables on his utensil, "we wait to meet the prince."

 

* * *

 

There was a certain tranquility associated with formlessness. The lack of physicality dimmed emotion and heightened concentration, and every time he reverted to this state of pure consciousness, he wondered why he ever bothered with matter at all. To exist only as a stirring of wind, a shiver of light, a web of interconnected thoughts and images, was to be truly free, or so he felt. And yet he knew that his species had adapted their ability to convert psychic energy into solid flesh because they had _not_ been free. Without physical anchors, their minds (and therefore their entire selves) had been particularly vulnerable to invaders and pillagers. The bodies they adapted from other races protected their thoughts and provided structure to their free-floating ideas. It had been many centuries since any of his people had ventured beyond this citadel in their natural, disembodied state. It was too dangerous. And while he had reason to know that a physical form by itself was an imperfect shield against psychic attack, he still wasn't fool enough to leave home without one.

He was about to leave home now for good, and that ought to be a melancholy thought. It wasn't. Oh, he'd miss the peace of intangibility, but he wouldn't miss this kingdom or any of the people in it. For twenty years, he had been waiting and hoping for the arrival of Destiny, and now she was here. He wasn't going to pass up this opportunity to fly away in her. So he had to bond with someone he'd never met? He didn't care. He didn't expect to ever feel again the love that he had felt for his first bondmate, but one didn't _have_ to love a bondmate to enjoy the benefits of the bond. It would be nice not being completely alone in his own head anymore. It would also be nice to have the added protection that the bond provided. And it would be nice simply to feel like he was a part of something again.

An image of the human colonel flashed through his mind, sent to him by a courtier who was currently in conference with the human. _Oh_ , he thought, reacting to the image with unbecoming glee. _Oh, he looks tired and dull-witted and absolutely perfect_. _Like an Ancient. A scruffy, stolid, overworked Ancient_.

More images and information followed, pouring into his being and filling him up with all the knowledge that his people had acquired from the humans so far. Their appearance, their language, bits and pieces of their culture and history, enough for him to assemble a human body for himself and take on a new identity. Heat lanced through him as pure thought became flesh, and then it dissipated when cool air hit his new, bare skin. He shivered, a very curious involuntary reaction to the chill, and quickly generated garments to cover his nakedness. Soft cotton, coarse denim, leather boots. It all felt good and _right_ , somehow, as if he'd been waiting to wear this body for a long, long time and just hadn't known it.

He needed no practice walking, but he took a turn around his empty room anyway just to feel his new muscles work. He had soft hair that brushed his cheekbones as he moved, and he liked the way that felt on his skin. Already he was re-adapting to the world of sensation. Touch. How had he forgotten touch while in that formless state? It was one of the things that made bodies worthwhile, after all. Human bodies in particular processed touch in a very pleasing way, he thought. _Good._ Even if his human bondmate's personality left something to be desired, the sex would probably be fantastic.

He walked toward the nearest wall and nearly attempted to go straight through it before remembering that he was no longer insubstantial. Doors. He'd have to start using doors again. What a nuisance. So he let himself out by the door and made his way through the citadel toward the dining hall where the human guests were being entertained. He noted that nearly all of his people had chosen to wear human bodies, even the ones not in direct contact with the visitors. Enjoying the novelty of the new form, he supposed. He couldn't really blame them for that, since he was enjoying it too.

The dining hall was nearly empty when he entered it. A small knot of his own people were conferring together in a corner, and four humans were seated at one of the tables on the other side of the room, but that was all. The humans all turned toward him as he approached, and the one he recognized as his colonel rose to his feet.

"Colonel Everett Young," the human introduced himself, holding out a hand.

He gazed down at the hand in perplexity for several seconds before he realized that he was supposed to shake it. "Nicholas Rush," he replied as he did so. The human's hand was warm and strong, and contact with it made his fingers tingle. " _Doctor_ Nicholas Rush," he amended a moment later, because that seemed to be the proper title for human scholars and scientists. He would rather be Doctor Nicholas Rush than Prince Nicholas any day, and he wanted to establish that fact as soon as possible.

Young tilted his head to one side and smiled ironically. His eyes sharpened, and for a moment he looked anything but dull-witted. "There's no way your name is Nicholas Rush."

Ah. Rush liked that expression on him. Maybe the colonel had a bit more going for him mentally than appeared on first impression. Rush was looking forward to bonding with him and finding out for sure. "My true name is a thought," he explained, "not a sound. I can't translate it for you. You'll have to accept a substitute. I thought it best to choose a name that would be familiar to you."

"It is helpful," Young acknowledged with a brief nod, "as long as you're comfortable with it."

"My species is nothing if not adaptable," Rush murmured dryly. "I can get used to nearly anything. Besides, I chose it myself, which makes it mine."

Young didn't appear to have anything to say to that, but he did look like he was thinking it over, and that, too, seemed like a hopeful sign. Rush had nothing against a man of few words as long as he wasn't also a man of few thoughts. And his silence gave Rush the opportunity to look him over. He was still rather scruffy looking. His uniform was worn, he had hints of stubble on his chin, and there were dark rings under his eyes that hinted at either stress, pain, sleeplessness, or all three together. But he also looked strong and solid and dependable. Not the kind of person you overlooked in a crowd, even if his height was unimpressive and his features equally so. He had an indefinable presence about him. Rush decided that he approved. This human would do.

 

* * *

 

As they stood in silence, regarding one another, Young wondered if the alien - _Nicholas Rush_ , he said to himself. He really had to start thinking about the guy as a _him_ , instead of an it - chose this particular form, or if the ability to shapeshift merely meant he could take on human form, but not control the end result in any fundamental way. The human disguise he was wearing was convincing, although there was something distracting about it; something that didn't quite add up. Something that made him want to study his face more thoroughly. Something unbalancing that tugged at Young's curiosity.

Rush wasn't very tall, or particularly muscular. He wasn't very young, or bearing the kind of striking beauty he might've expected from a race of shapeshifters. But Young couldn't deny he made an engaging picture, nonetheless, with his intense gaze and his almost impossibly well-groomed hair. His face was expressive; his features sharp and his eyes the color of dark coffee, brimming with life and anticipation. Young could see why Rush had chosen this shape. He had a certain air about him, something intangible but imperious, that Young supposed had to do with his royal upbringing.

It was slightly unnerving, the way Rush looked him over, and Young couldn't decide whether the subsequent expression on Rush's face meant he had passed or failed his little test. Young kept his face pleasant and professional as his inner turmoil rocketed up a notch. Rush didn't step back or turn away, though, so it was fine.

As long as the bonding was on, it was all fine.

Young knew he was hardly a prize, of course. But, he supposed, being a prince, Rush probably had no illusions about 'bonding' for love or attraction.

The stray thought really brought home the absurdity of his situation.

Jesus, he was about to enter into a sort of domestic partnership with someone he'd met two minutes ago - an alien prince, for crying out loud. Emily would be thrilled about this, undoubtedly. As if she didn't have enough reason to be angry with him already. His marriage had been on the brink of falling apart for a long time now, and this might very well be the last straw for her. Maybe it would be better not to tell her at all. Although of course that would completely undermine the trust he'd been trying to rebuild with her for the past few months. He was sure she wouldn't forgive him another trespass, but at this point he had no idea which would be the bigger offense.

This whole thing was funny in a way that really wasn't very funny at all, and he had to remind himself for the umpteenth time that his crew needed this. He couldn't decline the offer of food, and technology, and a truckload of supplies they could desperately use, simply because he was uncomfortable with the idea of bonding with an alien man somewhere on a planet that no one back home had ever even heard of.

It was hardly as if the bonding would be legally binding on Earth, anyway. And obviously this wouldn't be anything more than a marriage of convenience, so to speak. If that, even.

A strategic move on everyone's part. A contract, that was the word for it. He'd just sign on the metaphorical dotted line, take the alien with them aboard the ship, and then that'd be that.

"Well then, if you're ready?" Rush asked, with a slight lift of an eyebrow. There was something fascinating about the curl of his lips, like an invitation and a warning wrapped into one.

In all honesty, Young wasn't sure he was ready at all. But like so many things in life, dragging his feet would only make everything more unpleasant. _Just a simple contract_ , he told himself again, before he nodded at Rush and followed him to the small group of gathered aliens.

Immediately, Greer was at his side. "Sir," he said, quietly enough not to be overheard by anyone else. Young knew what it meant. ' _Just say the word and we're out of here._ '

He appreciated the sentiment, but this was happening. There was no going back now.

He gave Greer a pat on the elbow and a reassuring nod - ' _It's fine, we're doing this_ ,' - and squared his shoulders as he stepped up beside Rush.

"We would like to commence our ceremony shortly," said the tall brunette who had introduced herself during their negotiations as 'Lak' something, with a number of clicking sounds.

Young nodded in response. There was a definite timetable his own team needed to keep, with Destiny jumping back into FTL in less than an hour.

Next to him, Rush seemed antsy, his entire form practically vibrating with tense energy. For a split second Young thought he was apprehensive about the bonding, nervous to spend the rest of his life on a ship with a bunch of people he didn't know, away from his family and friends. But then Rush looked at him with an expression of such badly concealed eagerness that Young's heart skipped a beat. Rush wanted this.

Well, good. They could do with someone aboard the ship who knew about Ancient technology. Who could figure out how Destiny worked. They hadn't had much luck unlocking the master code on their own - their best chance of that had died when his chief scientist had failed to make it through the gate from Icarus - and they had barely any access to the ship's systems. It mostly felt as if they were all just along for the ride, and combined with the continual frantic scrabbling for survival it made for quite a helpless situation. It would be fantastic if this alien could be of some assistance. If he could help them to finally gain some control over the ship. Over their entire predicament.

He gave Rush a small smile, and the curious tilt of Rush's mouth sent a flutter of nerves through his chest.

He was doing this. Just a contract.

Rush held out his right hand, thumb pointed towards him, and when Young didn't immediately know how to react, he grabbed Young's left and folded their thumbs over each other, keeping the rest of his fingers ramrod straight. The brunette alien looked slightly amused and shot Rush a glance Young couldn't quite interpret, before inviting the rest of her companions to stand around them in a half circle. Greer, Scott and Chloe stood behind him and Rush, and it was all both more and less ritualistic than he had expected.

No one spoke, but a certain humming energy filled the air. He looked behind him, to check if Greer noticed it too. Greer looked suspicious and inquisitive, but not alarmed, so Young figured it was just him, then.

Okay. Right. That was okay. These were incorporeal shapeshifters who married off their royal family members to random space captains; a little humming energy during a bonding ceremony should come as no surprise.

Rush's thumb was warm against his own, the hollow between them almost pulsing with heat, and Young wondered how much longer this would take, how much longer they would have to stand here, holding hands in a rather alien way, when suddenly the humming became more insistent, louder, until he couldn't focus on anything but the point of contact between him and Rush.

The heat between them grew in urgency, blocking out everything else, winding tighter and tighter around his entire being until something snapped out of place abruptly.

It was intense, and wholly alien but somehow not, because suddenly he was sharing his… his what? His mindspace, to put it simply. He was sharing the space in which his mind resided, a space he'd never been aware of before now, with someone else. With Rush. Rush's being pushed up against his own, not physically - physically they were only touching their hooked thumbs together still - but in a more intangible way. For a moment, it was overwhelming. It was impulse to pull away, to shrink back, but the calming mien of Rush's presence helped him overcome it. _This is acceptable_ , everything but his instincts told him. He could do this.

Slowly, he reached out, brushing against Rush's consciousness with a hesitancy he normally would have overruled and hidden away. It was more difficult to keep up appearances in his own head. Rush allowed him to map out this new structure, lingering quietly but not making his own attempts at contact.

He couldn't read Rush's mind, couldn't see inside it. But he could _feel_ it. Feel it like a silky, warm presence against his own, radiating contentment and excitement and just a hint of wistful melancholy. It was with a sudden burst of desire that Young pushed in, pushed through, and then that smooth cover slid aside and they were mingling, intense and so intimate he wasn't sure where his edges ended and Rush's began. He'd never experienced anything like it before. He could feel Rush, all of Rush, and Rush could feel him, and Jesus, this was a lot more than he signed up for, this did _not_ feel like a fucking contract, but they were working towards something, a climax of sorts, and he did not know how to stop, how to step back from the incredible sensations rolling through his entire being as Rush consumed and gave in an infinite feedback loop.

With a sudden click, everything ended. He opened his eyes, because apparently he had closed them during the… the bonding - and only now did he realize how much more serious that word was than he had been willing to believe, because he could still feel Rush's presence. But that sleek, impenetrable shell was back, and it wasn't nearly as intense as those first few… seconds, minutes? He had no idea how much time had passed.

Young looked down to see his hand entangled with Rush's, now much closer to a human version of hand holding, although still somewhat odd. His palm was sweating slightly, and with an uncomfortable shock he recognized the churning in his gut as dissatisfaction. He wanted more, he wanted back in there; Rush's and his mind intertwining in a way that made pleasure ripple through him in utterly unfamiliar ways.

Fuck. It took all his willpower not to yank his hand away from Rush right then.

The brunette alien nodded at him. "You have been bonded."

Rush gave him a smile then, and Jesus, how was he this attractive? Young was pretty sure he hadn't ever seen anyone with a smile quite so alluring, and goddammit, this was definitely a side-effect of the bond. It had to be.

"Let's go," Rush said, and with a final look at his fellow aliens, he turned around and started pulling Young out of the dining room.

His hand was still warm in Young's.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time they stepped through the gate, Rush was brimming with such intense excitement he was almost bouncing with it. Young probably would've found it amusing if his head hadn't been a jumble of denial and arousal and coming unglued at the edges.

None of this was what he'd expected. Rush had been inside his _mind_. They had... they had done something during that ceremony, and Young wasn't sure what it was exactly, but it was so intimate his head was still reeling with it. He wanted more, ever since he'd let go of Rush's hand he'd wanted to push him up against the nearest flat surface and - shit, if he'd known this was what it would be like, he wouldn't have agreed.

Rush's fingers bumped against his own casually, and it sent a tingle of electricity up his entire arm.

"I'm sure you want to go explore the ship," Young said abruptly, putting a few feet of distance between himself and Rush. "I have other business to attend to right now, so Sergeant Greer can show you around."

Rush gave him a slightly quizzical look, but then his eyes were drawn by the empty corridor behind Young, and he nodded absentmindedly.

"Welcome aboard Destiny," Young said, voice low and thick with the unresolved tension swirling through him. Rush was already retreating, hurrying toward the exit of the gate room with Greer hot on his heels.

Young looked around him then, finally taking in the assortment of crates and containers littering the floor of the gate room. This was why he did it, these things...they were going to make life so much easier for everyone aboard the ship. His people would finally be able to take a breath, to enjoy at least a measure of comfort, without having to worry where their next meal was going to come from.

Scott was already hard at work directing a bunch of Airmen on where to take the different boxes of supplies. He seemed to have everything under control. That was good. That meant Young could excuse himself for thirty minutes, an hour if he was lucky, and find a quiet place to come to terms with everything that had just happened.

His quarters, that was where he would go.

He nodded at the few people he ran into on the way to his room, but didn't engage in any real conversations. He needed to think right now. He needed to calm down. He needed to be on his own, just for a little while, so he could figure out what to do next.

When the door to his quarters whirred shut behind him, he let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

He dragged a hand through his hair and sat down on one of his couches. God, all of this was not what he'd expected. He'd been prepared for a businesslike transaction. A simple, boilerplate contract, where he'd promise to take care of Rush's safety aboard Destiny, and Rush's people provided his crew with the means to live in relative luxury for the foreseeable future.

Sure, he'd worried about Emily's reaction; he was pretty sure she'd hardly be thrilled with the idea of him being 'bonded' to some alien man, no matter how impersonal the actual agreement was. But that was something he could overcome, a price he was willing to pay, if it meant increasing the odds of survival for his own people. They really could use the extra rations for their jump across galaxies, after all.

He couldn't pretend that the bonding ceremony hadn't been a little more than that, though. It hadn't just been some cold, detached deal he'd struck with Rush, it had been… it had been the most extraordinary and intimate encounter in his entire life, if he was honest. Rush's mind, his entire _being_ , had been rubbing up against Young's own, and somehow instinct had taken over and he'd invaded Rush. Everything had become a blur of desire and delirious pleasure until it was all cut short by the end of the ceremony. Faint echoes of that overwhelming whirlwind of sensation still tugged at his mind, urging him to go look for Rush and… and what? Pin him against the wall? Kiss him? Work open his pants and - _Goddamnit_ , he had to get a grip.

He'd just bonded with an extraterrestrial lifeform - someone he'd never even met before today - and apparently that entailed a little more than a signature and a handshake. Apparently it entailed attempting to mind-meld, and in the aftermath of that, experiencing some pretty strong physical attraction to the alien in question. Jesus, he could use a drink right about now.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Maybe he was overreacting. They were back aboard Destiny now, there wouldn't be any more strange bonding ceremonies. Those feelings he'd experienced, they were intense and unfamiliar, and somehow that had given them a false sense of profoundness. But there was a good chance that all of it had been a fluke. That wanting to get physical with Rush was just a singular reflex, a reaction to the ceremony. Maybe there was no need to worry right now.

He could deal with this. He'd just try to avoid Rush today, as far as that was possible on the ship, and distract himself with work. They'd gotten in a lot of new supplies; that should be enough to keep his mind off Rush.

Yes, he could deal with this.

Feeling considerably better about all of this, Young stepped back out of his quarters and made for the gate room again.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of inventorizing, and while Rush never completely slipped his mind, it was a lot easier to focus on other things when he wasn't there.

It was good. It was just a fluke. It would be okay.

 

* * *

 

That night he was in the mess hall, just about to dive into the stew-like meal Becker had prepared with the new supplies from their trade, when Greer and Rush walked in.

Rush's eyes landed on him immediately, and with a pleased look he walked over to Young's table and sat down across from him. Young slightly resented the way his heart started thumping much too loudly. So much for the fluke theory.

"The ship is fascinating," Rush said.

Young made sure to keep his face friendly and pleasant as he nodded. He felt his entire body reaching out to Rush, wanting to move closer, wanting to _touch_ him. God, it was distracting as hell. An incredible flood of gratitude washed over him as Greer plunked down a bowl of food in front of Rush, and then sat down next to him with his own. There. That made it much easier to keep from nudging his foot forward until their legs touched, to keep from leaning across the table to wind his fingers through Rush's hair.

"So, how was your day?"

Greer looked up from his stew, clearly appreciating the new spices in Becker's arsenal.

"I showed him around all the habitable parts of the ship, and he spent most of the rest of the afternoon in the control interface room, talking to Eli."

Young shot Rush a look, and felt his heart flutter at the private smile he sent Young over his meal. "He's a rather brilliant young man."

"He is," Young conceded, casting his eyes down to his own food.

"He thinks he can help us open up more sections of the ship," Greer said.

"I might have some ideas to help unlock the master code, as well," Rush added, and Young felt his lips quirk upwards at his slightly cavalier delivery. Oh God, he wasn't really thinking that Rush's princely arrogance was endearing now, was he?

Thankfully, Eli chose that precise moment to join them at their table, and Rush seemed perfectly happy to continue a conversation they had apparently started earlier. As soon as Rush's attention shifted from him to Eli, he finally felt like he could breathe again. This bond thing would take some getting used to, it seemed.

Young shot Greer a look and received a reassuring nod in response. Good. At least it seemed Greer hadn't found any more reason to be suspicious of Rush today. He trusted Greer's instincts; the man was not easy to fool. At some point Young was probably going to have to let Rush roam the ship on his own, in any case. He couldn't afford to give him a round the clock escort; they simply didn't have the manpower.

When dinner was over, Rush followed him to Becker and handed his own empty bowl over as if it was an interesting ritual he was copying, before gazing at Young with a questioning look.

"You're having a good time here?" Young asked, and then kicked himself mentally, because God, why was he so _awkward_? It really made no sense to be so uncomfortable around the alien, especially seeing as they were stuck with him now. Might as well try to make him feel welcome. They exited the mess hall together, and Young didn't miss the way a lot of the crew kept sending them surreptitious glances.

Rush shot him an amused glance as they walked through the corridors together. "Yes, today was quite eventful."

Young huffed a breath. That was an understatement.

Rush's fingertips brushed his as they walked, and this time he was ninety percent sure it wasn't an accident. He ignored it, and pushed aside the sliver of lust it awoke in him.

"Are you getting settled in yet?" he asked, instead of thinking how he could smell Rush in the air, a distinct metal-like musk that was disturbingly intoxicating. It seemed to get stronger with every step they took. "Have you picked out your sleeping quarters, at least?"

Rush stopped walking and gave him a confused frown. "I'm not sleeping with you?"

Young kept his face passive, a skill he'd honed over the last three decades. Rush probably didn't know the human connotations to that phrase. He didn't mean anything by it. "No, I don't think that's a good idea."

Rush looked pensive for a second, before nodding slowly. "Alright. I can see why having my own quarters would have its advantages." He took a step towards Young, and it was hard to stay where he was; to refrain from scooting back as much as to keep from inching closer. "So where do you want to go?"

This time, it was Young's turn to look confused. "What do you mean?"

Rush looked at him, his eyes roaming over Young in a way that was hard to interpret as anything other than amorous. Shit, so he hadn't been misinterpreting things. Young looked away, then, swallowing thickly, before squaring his shoulders and facing Rush again.

"Listen, this...this bonding thing, it was part of the deal between your people and mine, and we accepted it. But now that we're here, now that _you're_ here, we don't have to do anything about it."

Rush frowned and gave him a long look. "Obviously we don't _have_ to do anything about it. But I was rather looking forward to trying out this new body."

Jesus, that was direct. Young had to take a step back, had to force some distance between them before Rush got close enough to touch, because that was a very bad idea.

"No," he said, sounding much more composed than he actually felt. "I meant that we _shouldn't_ do anything about it. I'm married."

Rush seemed dismayed. Whether it was at the rejection, or the fact that Young was married, Young wasn't sure. Maybe it was both.

"So any kind of physical coupling is entirely off the table?" Rush asked, and yeah, he was definitely irritated. Young needed to shut this conversation down fast, because the longer they were standing here, the harder it was to ignore that low buzz of arousal in his gut.

"Yeah, that's not going to happen," he snapped, a bit too harshly. He tried to amend it by saying, "Sorry," but it didn't really make him feel like less of a jerk when Rush glanced away and looked...well, mostly annoyed, but also a little bit dejected.

"Fine. I'll be going then," Rush said, before turning on his heel and marching away. Young had half a mind to send Greer to keep an eye on him, but he was pretty sure that would be adding insult to injury. He radioed Eli, instead, and told him Rush had gone in the general direction of the control interface room.

He didn't see Rush for the rest of the night.

Later, as he lay in bed, Young wondered how much this bond was really going to impact him. Hopefully, today was mostly a side-effect of what happened during that ceremony. It was intense, and overwhelming, and it had felt good, so of course his mind needed a bit of time to recover from that. It was only to be expected.

Yes, with any luck his attraction to Rush would fade away on its own.

Still, it took a long time to fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

Rush stepped into the small room that was to be his quarters for the foreseeable future and closed the door behind him. He had just come from the control interface room, where he had spent the last five hours distracting himself from his irritation and disappointment by studying Destiny's archive - a frustrating task in itself, since only a small part of it was accessible - and peppering Eli with questions about everything the science team had done since their arrival on the ship. Eli put up with this interrogation good-naturedly for quite some time, but eventually he excused himself because, "I gotta get some sleep, man." Rush nodded at him and turned his attention back to his console, but a moment later he heard a pointed cough.

He looked up. Eli was still standing in the doorway, looking apologetic. Another human, who called himself Doctor Volker and who seemed to be a waste of space as far as Rush could ascertain, was standing at one of the other consoles and eyeing Rush warily.

"What?" Rush asked, feeling his irritation rise again.

"You should probably go to bed too, you know," Eli said.

Oh, of course. Rush had supposed Young no longer thought he needed to be kept under surveillance since Greer had apparently been called off of guard duty. But no, that job had just shifted to Eli. Now Eli was torn between his need for sleep and his assigned task of keeping an eye on Rush, and judging by Volker's expression, _he_ wasn't keen on taking over for him.

Rush was strongly tempted to rebel. This ship was his home now, and he was an extremely valuable asset who deserved respect and gratitude for the contributions he was prepared to make, not suspicion. On the other hand, maybe it would be better not to bolster those suspicions by refusing to cooperate, at least for now. Once he was more established and had earned a measure of trust, he could keep whatever hours he chose.

Besides, he did feel a bit tired.

So instead of arguing, he had simply nodded and complied. Eli had shown him to a corridor full of rooms that had not yet been claimed, and Rush had chosen one at random.

It was a comfortable-looking space, clean and cozy and minimally decorated in a style he approved of. He liked the fact that these quarters had been designed for occupation by an Ancient. It made him feel a little bit closer to the long-dead race that had fascinated him for the past twenty years.

 _Still_ , he thought as he walked forward and trailed his fingertips over the duvet on the bed, _ghosts make for poor company_.

The silky texture of the fabric was nothing like the coarse, work-hardened skin of Young's hand, but it made Rush think of the few fleeting touches they had shared anyway. He wondered what Young's skin felt like elsewhere on his body. Softer, he supposed. Less calloused. And his hair, how would that feel? It was fairly short, but with a hint of curl that appealed to Rush. And his lips, too. Humans kissed with their lips - that was one of the more interesting bits of information Rush had gleaned by osmosis today. How would _that_ feel? His own lips were sensitive, and running his finger over them made them tingle pleasantly, so kissing Young would probably feel quite nice.

Well, it was pointless to speculate about sensations he would never experience. The ironic thing about this whole situation was that Rush now had what he'd wanted for years, but his enthusiasm was nearly spoiled by the rejection of a human he'd only met that morning. It was ridiculous - completely, utterly laughable - and it would soon pass. Give him a day or so, and it wouldn't even matter anymore that his bondmate…

His bondmate didn't want him.

Rush abruptly sat down on the bed, gripping his hands together in his lap. There was a pang of discomfort in his chest and a stinging sensation in his eyes. His heart rate was elevated, and it seemed like he couldn't get enough air. If he'd been less distressed, it would no doubt have interested him how strongly this body responded to his emotions. As it was, he wished he could break free from the confines of his new flesh and be nothing but a mind again, safely distanced from such irrational turmoil. But he couldn't. Not out here, where any psychic predator for many light years in all directions would undoubtedly pounce on his exposed consciousness. So he would stay here, trapped in his skin and bones, learning how to regulate his breathing to slow his heartbeat and blinking away the dampness in his eyes.

It was all just a physical reaction, he told himself. This ache didn't mean he actually _cared_. To borrow a colloquialism that he'd learned today and strongly approved of, he didn't give a fuck. Young could keep his _marriage_ (as if any unbonded relationship could trump a bonded one), and Rush would keep Destiny, and they would both be perfectly happy. In separate rooms. In separate beds. Not touching. Not feeding their bond in any way.

His last bondmate - he was going to call her Gloria, because her true name could only be expressed as a burst of pale yellow sparks - had not impressed him at first. He hadn't wanted to bond at all. His whole focus was on his work, and never having experienced the bond before, he didn't see how it could benefit him. He thought he didn't need that kind of distraction in his life. But it had been a political arrangement, and he'd had little choice in the matter. It wasn't until the bonding ceremony itself that he'd had an inkling of what he'd been missing.

He and Gloria had spent their first night together on a heated stone slab within her cavernous underground home. They'd had sex, strengthening their new bond, and then they'd fallen asleep wrapped in each other's frond-like appendages, and it had been perfect. Years later, he still often tried to relive that moment in his mind and recall that sense of warmth and safety. Memories were a poor substitute for the real thing, but they were all he had.

They were _still_ all he had.

And yet it wasn't Gloria he was thinking about as he disconsolately pulled off his waistcoat and boots. He was still thinking about Young - his uncertain smile, his well-shaped hands, his strange blend of awkwardness and competence. He was thinking that he liked the way Young's uniform fit across his straight shoulders, and the way his eyes glittered different shades in different lighting - sometimes gray, sometimes green, sometimes tawny. He liked the slow, deliberate way Young moved, and the suggestion that he could be quite fast when he needed to be. And he liked the way Young had looked during their bonding ceremony, standing at attention with his eyes closed and his lips ever-so-slightly parted as if he was drinking it all in and savoring it.

A flicker of heat washed over him as he remembered the pleasure of the bonding. That moment of perfect connection, the swirl of intermingling thoughts and emotions, the unspoken _mine_ and _yours_ that chased away years of loneliness in an instant. And the physical pleasure too, of course - the buzz of energy and the cascading warmth. Human bodies were as sensitive as he'd guessed. What would it be like to become drunk on sensation in this form? It shouldn't matter, of course. He shouldn't want it this much, especially without a lover present. What was wrong with him?

Irritably he shucked off his jeans and pulled both his shirts over his head. Enough of this. He was going to bed, and he wasn't going to think about Young any longer. His socks and underwear joined the pile of clothing on the floor, and then he pulled back the covers on the bed and slid between the slippery-soft sheets.

He wriggled before he could stop himself. Oh, that felt nice against his skin.

 _No_. He wasn't thinking about pleasure right now. He was thinking about sleep. Or, failing that, breaking the master code, or any number of other projects he intended to work on once he was fully established as a crewmember on Destiny. Not touching, or kissing, or sex. He was _not_ thinking about sex.

But what was sex like for humans, really? Oh, he knew the basics. He understood the mechanics pretty well… at least some of them. All right, he was a bit blurry on a few things, but he was certain all of it would be enjoyable once he got the hang of it. But what he really wanted to know was, what did it _feel_ like? Would it be as good as the sex he'd had in the past as other species? Would it be _better_?

It might be better.

And he really needed to stop. He was driving himself crazy with this line of thought, and it wasn't like he had any sort of outlet for his growing frustration. Already his body was hot and tense with need, and his cock…

He blinked up at the ceiling for a moment as realization set in, and then he pushed back the covers and stared down at himself. Oh. He was hard. He had no lover with him, and yet he was hard. That was… interesting.

Slowly, cautiously, he reached down and slid his fingertips along his length. The sensation made him shiver and quickened his pulse, so that seemed like a promising start. Growing bolder, he ran his fingers over the tip of his cock, nudged back the foreskin experimentally, then gave his head a squeeze that sent sparks shooting through his groin. He gasped, and then he let out a single bark of laughter. Humans could pleasure _themselves_. How extraordinary! He'd never had a body that could do that before. This called for further study.

For a minute or so he just fumbled, rubbing and squeezing and teasing himself mercilessly as he attempted to find the best way to go about pleasuring himself. But it wasn't long before instinct took over, and with a grunt of frustration he rocked his hips up toward the closed fist around his cock. _Fuck_. He closed his eyes and let out a hoarse groan as pleasure washed through him, much stronger than before. He did it again, and again, and then set a rhythm going, alternating between pulsing his hips and pumping his fist to see which he enjoyed more. Soon it didn't even seem to matter - he was too lost in bliss to ponder technique any longer.

He was sweating and making soft involuntary noises, and sometimes he stared at the ceiling as if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and sometimes he closed his eyes tight and thought of Young. He imagined capturing Young's mouth in a kiss, tasting his lips, feeling his breath. He imagined letting Young do this to him, watching Young's hand on his cock, or perhaps doing this for Young. Oh, yes, definitely that. He desperately wanted to touch Young, make him sweat and pant and groan as Rush was doing now. It would be so satisfying to see his habitually steady expression dissolve into rapture.

It would never happen, but it was happening here in Rush's mind, and it was so incredible that he couldn't even fault it for being a fantasy. And the more he focused on that mental image of Young, the more his pleasure built, spiraling upwards toward a peak that he could sense was just out of his reach. He worked his hand on his cock, almost chafing himself but hardly caring, so close, so close…

And then he was curling inwards around an explosion of heat and joy. His pulse was racing and he felt breathless and dizzy and glorious and euphoric. Tremors ran over his entire body, little aftershocks of pleasure, and waves of warm contentment were beginning to wash over him. His bare stomach was covered with his ejaculate, starting to cool now, and he scooped up a bit on one finger and tasted it curiously. It was bland and a little odd, but he licked his finger clean anyway.

He used a corner of the bedsheet to clean up the rest of the mess. He'd wash it tomorrow - for now, he wanted to close his eyes, because he felt strangely heavy, weighed down with weariness in the aftermath of his pleasure. Sleep beckoned to him, and he'd rather give into it now than risk a recurrence of those lonely thoughts that had plagued him earlier. They would keep until morning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic now has a companion playlist [here](http://8tracks.com/seekingidlewild/melodies-and-morse-code) if anyone is interested.

Moving shadows flickered at the corners of Chloe's vision as she approached the mess hall. They were the residue of phantoms that haunted her nights, blue and cold and eerily distorted through water and glass. She was too tired to give them more than a passing consideration. The ironic thing about living in constant stress and fear was that she was becoming jaded to all of it. Phantoms could wreck her sleep, and they did so on a regular basis, but they were going to have to work a little harder to draw a reaction from her in her waking hours.

The mess was crowded when she entered. At this hour, many of the military personnel were coming off their night shift, and this was essentially their dinner. For most of the civilians, it was time for breakfast. But it looked like there was a bit of room at Eli's table, so she made her way over there with her steaming breakfast.  Eli spotted her and scooted a little closer to the tired-looking soldier on his right to give her some room at the end of the bench. Rush was sitting opposite Eli, talking at intervals and eating his way through his breakfast with no indication that he was actually tasting any of it. He looked up as Chloe sat down, nodded at her in a way that seemed to say, 'yes, you do exist,' and then turned his attention back to his conversation with Eli.

But Eli had stopped talking. He was staring at Chloe with furrowed brows. "You look awful," he said.

"Thanks, Eli," she said, digging her spoon into the porridge Becker had made from grains, fruits, and nuts provided by Rush's people, and tasting it. Oh, wow. That definitely made a pleasant change from banana-flavored protein paste. Already, the last few faded ghosts from her dreams were disappearing under the influence of friends and good food.

"I just meant that it doesn't look like you got much sleep. _Again_ ," Eli said quickly. "Nightmares?"

"Always," Chloe said under her breath. She took another bite of porridge, savored it with closed eyes, and then opened her eyes again to meet Eli's worried gaze. "I think it's getting better. Slowly. Very slowly."

"Nighmares?" Rush repeated, showing unexpected interest in the subject. His eyes were fixed on Chloe now, and she found their intensity somewhat disconcerting.

"Chloe got abducted by aliens," Eli explained.

"Just for a few hours," Chloe said, wondering why she was trying to downplay it. Those few hours had been horrible enough, even though she had spent some of them unconscious. But something in Rush's gaze made her think he understood. That he had been a prisoner too, somewhere in his mysterious past, and he knew all about the fear and helplessness and violation of it.

Rush toyed with his remaining food, pushing it around his bowl with his spoon while still meeting Chloe's eyes. "What sort of aliens?" he asked. "What did they look like?"

Chloe had already described them multiple times before. She didn't want to do it again. She wanted to change the subject, ask what he and Eli had been talking about before her arrival, but his eyes demanded an answer.

"They were tall and thin and blue."

"Blue?" Rush repeated softly, and his eyes widened slightly. "What else?"

"Their skin was sort of translucent. I could see… I think I could see their brains through their skulls," she continued, trying not to sicken herself with the recollection. Over breakfast, too. What a lovely way to start the day. "They had spiky elbows, and their legs were double-jointed…"

That was apparently a good enough description for Rush. His face had gone completely ashen. His spoon slipped out of his fingers and clattered against the edge of his bowl, but he didn't seem to notice. "Did they read your mind?" he whispered.

Oh God, he knew them. He knew exactly who she was talking about.

"Yes," she said. "With… with a metal thing that they attached to my forehead."

Rush stood up abruptly, almost overturning his bowl in his haste. His eyes were wild and his skin was still pale, and it looked like his hands were shaking. Everyone at their table paused to stare at him, and Eli let out a sputtered, "hold up," but Rush ignored them all. He was striding toward the door before anyone could get another word out, and then he was gone.

"Okay…" Eli said, drawing the word out like a question.

"He's met them," Chloe said. _And he's even more scared of them than I am_. She stared down into her bowl, but the porridge seemed a lot less appetizing now.

 

* * *

 

Rush had no very clear idea of where he was going as he stalked through Destiny's corridors. He didn't perfectly know his way around the ship yet, and he certainly wasn't in a frame of mind to ask for directions. His heart was racing, and his chest was too tight to draw in a proper breath, and moisture was beading on his forehead and the back of his neck. This was panic. He was experiencing panic, and he didn't like it. It was too visceral. It seized him by the throat and jerked him around until his whole body trembled with it.

Bodies! So seductive. So inconvenient.

He just needed to see Young. That wouldn't take away his fear, but maybe, just maybe, it would blunt it. Besides, they needed to talk.

In the back of his mind, he could feel the psychic tether that bound him to Young. He focused his attention on that and followed its lead through the ship until he ended up in front of a closed door. He raised his hand to knock, then lowered it with a grunt of frustration and slapped the control panel. He might spend his nights in separate quarters, but he was not going to _knock_ on his own bondmate's door. As if they were complete strangers. As if they shared no ties whatsoever.

Fuck that.

The door slid back, and there was Young, seated behind a desk directly across from the doorway. There was a pile of papers in front of him, a pen in his hand, and a pair of rectangular glasses perched incongruously on his nose. He looked up and met Rush's eyes over the rims of his glasses, and for a brief instant, a surge of fondness disturbed the seething mixture of fear and resentment in Rush's heart. The commander appeared softened and even… well, _cute_ like this. Which was not what Rush had expected to be thinking about right after he'd found out that Destiny had already had a run-in with his worst enemies.

"You've encountered the Nakai," Rush blurted out, because stalking across the room, reaching over the desk, and tugging the bespectacled colonel into a scared, desperate, hungry kiss was out of the question.

Young blinked, and then he calmly set down his pen. "Good morning to you, too."

"You didn't think it might be important for me to know that one of your crewmembers was recently kidnapped by another species?" Rush stepped into the room and closed both trembling hands into fists to still them. He wanted… he didn't know what he wanted. All these layers of physical need were endlessly confusing. He started pacing across the center of the room, restless and angry and frightened. Still so frightened.

And Young just sat there behind his desk, looking thoughtful but undisturbed by Rush's antics. If he couldn't kiss him, then Rush wanted to try hitting him instead. Anything to make him show some echo of the emotions that threatened to rattled Rush apart.

"There hasn't been much opportunity for the subject to come up."

"And that's my fault?" Rush demanded, rounding on him. "Not much opportunity! There was plenty of opportunity last night."

"As I recall, you weren't interested in talking last night," Young said dryly.

Rush forced himself to take a breath before uttering the furious retort that was on the tip of his tongue. His anger at Young was useless. Worse than useless - it was a distraction from the threat posed by the Nakai. Besides, Young was technically right. After Young's rejection, Rush hadn't been interested in sticking around for a chat.

But they should be able to talk, at least. Young needed Rush's expertise if he was going to keep his people safe, and Rush needed Young for so many reasons. For the bond, for safety, for support as he worked to unlock Destiny's secrets. The lines of communication had to stay open between them, even if that was the only part of themselves that they shared with each other.

"Who are the Nakai?" Young asked, breaking the brief, tense silence that had fallen between them. There was a suggestion of an apology in his tone, as if he knew he'd said something calculated to enrage Rush and he regretted it.

Rush ran his fingers through his hair, concentrating on the varying textures of the individual strands to ground himself. "They are an advanced race who are keenly interested in Ancient technology, particularly this ship. They've been following it for some years, hoping to unlock its secrets but never managing to break through its defenses."

"We surmised some of that ourselves," Young said, "if you're talking about the same aliens that took Chloe."

Rush began to pace again. He needed some way to release this nervous energy which threatened to overthrow the order of his thoughts. "Her description was unmistakable. It was them. They have found a way to augment their natural, low-level telepathy with technology, so you can be certain that anything Chloe knew about Destiny before her capture, they're now aware of."

"I know. Chloe said they read her mind."

"What else did they do?" Rush asked. Then he paused mid-stride and swung toward Young. "No, start from the beginning. I need to know about the entire encounter."

If Young was perturbed by this princely command, he didn't show it. He rested his elbows on his desk and took off his glasses. The wire frames looked absurdly delicate and insubstantial suspended between those two powerful hands. "You want the _Reader's Digest_ version?"

_The what?_

Apparently that was a rhetorical question, because Young immediately launched into his account. "We were attacked by the aliens when we came out of FTL. This was a little over a month ago. It was one ship and a lot of small fighters. Once they had softened up our shields, one of the fighters was able to breach them and abduct Chloe. Scott and Greer went after her in the shuttle."

Rush couldn't help his snort of derision. "A shuttle and a two soldiers against a whole Nakai ship?"

"It was crazy, I know," Young agreed. "And it wasn't done with my authorization. But, somehow, they pulled off the rescue. I'm still not quite clear on _how_."

"I'll tell you how," Rush snapped, his insides twisting at the confirmation of all his worst fears. "The Nakai allowed it. They wanted her to come back to Destiny."

Young didn't react. His gaze was steadily fixed on Rush, and traces of curiosity and doubt peeked through the cracks in his bland mask. "I've wondered that myself," he said. "But I don't know why. They didn't have her more than a couple hours. What could they have done in that amount of time?"

"Plenty," Rush murmured, flinching away from looming memories, gruesome and varied and full of pain and violation and loss. "At the very least, I can assure you she's been tagged with a tracking chip."

Young set his glasses down on the desk and rubbed at his forehead - the first real sign of emotion he had expressed since Rush showed up at his door. "Great," he muttered. "She had a physical exam after she got back, and she only had a few cuts and bruises. No larger wounds or incisions. Unfortunately, we don't have the ability to take x-rays."

"A metal detector tuned to the right level of sensitivity might be enough," Rush said. "The chip is probably subdermal, implanted while she was unconscious so she wouldn't know it was there or where to look for it. It would be quite small, and the incision could easily be disguised as an ordinary cut."

Young's eyes sharpened, and Rush felt his breath catch in response. He was starting to get used to picking up very subtle clues from the commander's expression and posture, and that was a good thing. But why, _why_ did that sudden spark of intelligence in Young's eyes fill him with this sense of exaltation and pride? So his bondmate had a brain somewhere behind his dull (rugged, interesting, unforgettable) exterior. So he had at least the minimum level of mental acuity required to keep up with an untechnical conversation about a potential security risk, something he should be well accustomed to as a military leader. There was nothing in that to explain the pleasant warmth rippling through Rush's body.

"I think a metal detector came through from Icarus," Young said. "It might not be quite what you need--"

"I have no doubt that with Eli's or Mr. Brody's help, I can adapt it to our purpose. That will take less time than designing and building one from scratch."

"Sounds like a plan." Young smiled, and another tiny thrill shot through Rush. This was becoming a problem.

"Right," Rush said. Was the air thin in here? He should probably check on the status of the life support system when he went to the Control Interface room. Nevermind the fact that the colonel seemed unaffected. "I'll… go look into that."

He turned toward the door, pleased to have something to do that would make this ship safer for him. Already, his fear was growing less potent. He felt more in control of the situation, and that was good. That was _very_ good, because he seemed to have little or no control over his own physical or emotional responses anymore. But work? He could bury himself in work, eliminate the Nakai threat before it materialized, and in the process, demonstrate to Young that he was more than just a necessary evil, an unwanted bondmate, a nuisance. He was a scientist and a survivor, and he was the best thing that had happened to Destiny since her launch.

"Rush."

Rush paused in the doorway and looked back. Young had risen from his chair and was now walking around to the front of his desk. He leaned back against it and folded his arms across his chest. If he had seemed gentle and approachable when Rush first entered, now he looked comparatively hard and grim, like he was ready for trouble and wasn't afraid to meet it dead on.

"Yes?"

"You seem to know a lot about these… Nakai? How did you get all that information?"

Oh, perfect. More suspicion. Next thing he knew, he'd have Greer or Eli following him around again. The worst of it was that on this subject at least, he did have something to hide. Something that his new bondmate could never be allowed to see.

"You think they're friends of mine?" Rush asked, going on the defensive as his anxiety spiked.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. The implication was clear enough." Rush mimicked Young's posture, folding his own arms and glaring at the man who, just a minute ago, had made his heart swell with affection. How he managed to be so desirable and so detestable in the same instant, Rush couldn't fathom.

Young's face relaxed. He shift his own arms to his sides and braced his palms on the edge of the desk. It was an obvious attempt to appear more open and less threatening, and that should have mollified Rush, but he was still too lost in his own, secret fear to appreciate it.

"I'm not accusing you of anything," Young said.

"I know about the Nakai because I, like Chloe, was their guest, but for much longer than a few hours," Rush hissed. "They ambushed my ship. My bondmate and I were on our way back to her homeworld after a visit to mine, but we were boarded and the two of us were taken prisoner. The Nakai killed my bondmate in front of me, and then they interrogated and tortured me for a week. After that, they sold me back to my people in exchange for all of the data we had collected from the Ancient seed ship. _That_ , Colonel, is where I got my information."

He was breathing hard by the time he finished talking, and unshed tears blurred his vision. Gloria's image flashed before his eyes, contorted and lifeless at his feet. They'd had to kill her, of course. Rush's bond with Gloria had been so strong that it had acted like an impenetrable fortress around his mind, shielding it from any tampering. But with Gloria dead, he was undefended, and the Nakai had taken full advantage of that fact. They had interrogated him, yes. They had also tortured him, seemingly for the sheer fun of it. But they had done something else, too. They had changed him somehow, and his mind had never quite felt the same since. And then they had let him go.

The Nakai enjoyed turning their victims into walking weapons.

He couldn't say any of that out loud. Young, if he knew of it, would almost certainly remove Rush from the ship at the earliest opportunity. He couldn't have an active threat like that living among his people, putting their lives at risk. It wouldn't matter that Rush had no idea what had been done to his mind. Just because no dangerous symptoms had arisen yet didn't mean that they wouldn't.

He was pulled out of the frantic whirlwind of his thoughts by Young, who broke the silence with a soft, unexpected, "I'm sorry."

Rush closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his palm against the bridge of his nose. Young was sorry. Young even _sounded_ sorry. How could the man just say those two words, in that low, rough voice, and make it sound more understanding and more earnest than all of the beautiful and carefully-worded condolences Rush had received since Gloria's death?

He had only been awake for a few hours, and already Rush was exhausted by the strength and variety of the emotions he had experienced today. Living as a human was much more intense than he could have imagined, and he thought he would like to be alone and focus on his work for a little while. That would clear his head. That would make him feel like himself again.

"I should go take a look at that metal detector," he said, letting his hand drop and opening his eyes.

Young's expression was more open than usual. His unruly brows were lifted slightly and his gaze was thoughtful. He looked like he was asking Rush a silent question, one that Rush didn't know how to answer. But at least Young wasn't looking at him as if he was a problem that needed to be fixed, or a threat that needed to be eliminated. There might even be a touch of kindness in his eyes but… Rush didn't need kindness. He just needed his work.

"It should be in the main storage room," Young said. "If you have trouble finding it, Sergeant Greer or Lieutenant James should be able to help you."

Rush nodded a silent thanks for the advice and then made his escape. As he strode off down the hall, he heard the door to Young's room slide shut behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this chapter is late! I had a truly hellish Friday last week and it completely slipped my mind. - SI

Young watched Rush leave, a hasty retreat that seemed as much about getting away from him as it did about going to find the metal detector. Young had to actively push down the urge to go after him, to seek out more of that strange combination of guilty attraction and jittery calm he felt when Rush was near, when he was close enough to watch, if not to touch.

With a sigh, he palmed the mechanism next to his door, closing it, and moved to sit down on the couch. This distracting attraction to Rush could wait; Chloe was his first priority now. The safety of the ship was his first priority.

If what Rush said was true - and he couldn't imagine the man had been lying, not when his panic had been so close to the surface, not when his face had contorted with grief and misery as he recounted what the Nakai had done to him... If it was true, they weren't safe.

They needed to get that tracker out of Chloe as soon as possible.

He grabbed his radio. "Eli, it's Young. Rush might need your help. He should be on his way to the main storage room as we speak."

After a few seconds of silence, Eli’s voice sounded over his radio. " _Okay, I'm going. What is it?_ "

"It's important. He'll explain it to you."

" _All right._ "

The ache in his chest settled slightly. For some reason, knowing Rush wasn't going to have be alone made him feel a bit better. It was silly, he barely knew the man, but hearing him talk about his bondmate - _his previous bondmate_ , his mind supplied unhelpfully - seeing him on the verge of tears as he all but snarled what the Nakai had done to her, what they had done to him, had shaken Young to the core.

Before now, he'd seen Rush as... well, mostly as an inconvenience. Sure, bonding with him had been a measured decision, and he was glad for the provisions and the knowledge Rush brought on board with him. But Rush himself had been little more than an extra worry Young really didn't need at the moment, and the unexpected flares of intense lust he inspired were troublesome and embarrassing at best. Whenever Rush was nearby he had to consciously tamp down the memory of the bonding ceremony - the way their minds had intermingled, the way they had twisted around and _through_ each other, and how enticing the thought of doing it again was. It all culminated in a headache that made him less than inclined to see Rush as a welcome addition to his crew. To his life.

But speaking with him just now he'd realized for the first time that Rush was an actual person. That he’d had a life before coming here - memories both happy and sad, things he wished for and things he feared. Maybe Young had been a bit too dismissive of him because he was so unsettled by their bond. Now he regretted brushing Rush off quite that harshly yesterday. It was still the right thing to do, of course, but if he'd known about this... If he’d known about this he would've been a bit more patient, at least. A bit more willing to listen to what Rush had wanted to say.

He sighed again and looked at his watch. He was expected to report in to Homeworld Command in twenty minutes. After that, he was planning on seeing Emily again. He still hadn't decided what exactly he was going to tell her.

 

* * *

 

"A tracker?" Eli asked again, and he could feel his brow furrow as his mind struggled to come to terms with the idea that, no, apparently they weren't safe _at all_.

Rush barely sent him an irritated glance before bending back over the… the metal detector? Eli wasn't entirely sure, but it seemed like a metal detector, and that would make sense, wouldn't it. If the thing those aliens had implanted in Chloe contained any actual metal.

Shit, the thought of those kidnapping creeps actually tagging Chloe like she was some sort of pet was horrible. He didn't even want to think about how revolting the idea would be to her.

"How can I help?" he asked, determined to do whatever it took to get that chip out of Chloe as quickly as possible.

Rush finally stopped turning over the device to give him a look so intent Eli couldn't help but lean in closer. "I'm not yet familiar with human technology. Explain to me how this works."

That was overly optimistic of Rush, in Eli's opinion. But hey, maybe Eli didn't know exactly how it worked, but he knew someone who would. "I'll radio Brody, he can probably tell you everything you need to know," he said quickly. "We should go somewhere with a little bit more light, though."

Actually, what he really wanted was to look for Chloe, to let her know what was going on. But he knew it would just make her more anxious. She had been different, ever since coming back. She barely seemed to sleep anymore, and whenever she smiled it was always a little bit tight, a little bit strained, compared to how she was before. Those aliens had done something to her, and Eli could tell she was terrified of them, even if she hid it well enough from the others.

No, it would be better to have an actual solution to present along with the sickening knowledge that those blue jerks had left her with more than just psychological scars, that they had gotten their physical hooks into her as well. So, first things first. They needed to get out of this dim storage room. They needed Brody to come help them with whatever plan Rush was cooking up. And then they were going to make everything okay for Chloe.

Rush consented easily enough, and after Eli called Brody to meet them in the work area adjoining the control interface room, they hurriedly made their way through the corridors together.

"You have a plan, right? This is so we can fix her?" Eli asked.

Rush seemed a thousand light-years away, but he nodded at the question, and said, "We can make the necessary adjustments to this device, and then we can find the tracker."

Good. Eli nodded to himself. Yeah, that was good.

 

* * *

 

Young came back into his own body with a particularly strong sense of relief. More and more often he felt like an intruder when visiting Earth with the stones. Part of it was the dizzying rush of moving in someone else's body, of course. Having to adjust to height and weight differences, everything looking slightly off because the angles were unfamiliar. Over- or under-reaching for door handles, and the disconcerting awareness that the teeth in his mouth were not in the places they normally were.

But it was more than that. Where the first few times using the stones to visit Earth had felt like going home, now that was starting to shift. Now it was like the dark gray and brown metals of Destiny's wall plating, the recycled air, the soft humming noises of the engines made him feel… if not at home, at least somewhat at peace. This was where he was, and going to Earth just made him realize that he wasn't _there_.

"Colonel Young?" Scott asked him. Everyone aboard the ship was getting better at recognizing the transfer of consciousnesses.

"Yeah, it's me."

"How was your trip?"

Young closed his eyes for half a second. It hadn't been great.

The report was a quick affair, even if the new information about the possibility of a tracker being implanted in Chloe caused some alarm. The meeting with Emily, however, had been about as disastrous as he'd feared. She was not enamored by the idea of him ceremonially attaching himself to yet another extramarital partner, and while he had tried to explain to her that Rush was male, and an alien, and that it really had been nothing but a business transaction, he was fairly certain she'd seen something in his face that betrayed the lie in his reassuring claims.

She'd told him she wanted a divorce, and when he'd refused to listen, when he'd attempted to convince her to give him one more chance, she'd just sighed and said she needed time to think. He’d left her house feeling filled with vexation to the point of bursting, yet somehow also distinctly empty.

So yeah, it hadn't been great.

"It was fine, Scott. Where are Eli and Rush?"

"They're working on something in the control interface room, I think."

With a nod and a weary smile at Scott, Young made his way over to them. Eli, Rush, and Brody were standing together when Young entered the small work room adjacent to the control interface room. Rush was at a console, and Eli and Brody were bent over the metal detector, fiddling with the controls.

"How’s it going?" Young asked, refusing to cast his gaze to the side when Rush made eye contact and his entire body just _yearned_ for him. Rush held his stare for a beat too long, before looking over at Eli and Brody.

"We're almost finished with the adjustments."

"We're just checking if it works, now," Eli added, with a quick glance at Young.

"Good," Young nodded. "I'm going to let TJ know what's happening. You can take Chloe over to her when you're ready."

With that, he left the room, letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. This thing with Rush was getting out of hand. His marriage was already on the absolute brink of collapse, he could not afford to let these artificial feelings for Rush get the better of him.

Swiftly, he made his way over to the infirmary, and the goddamn irony that he was fleeing the current threat to his marriage to have a talk with the previous one wasn't lost on him. Maybe Emily had a point.

He purposefully kept his talk with TJ short and to-the-point. She'd have to examine Chloe with the metal detector and remove the tracker. It was a simple procedure, but a critical one.

After she'd nodded her agreement, she seemed to hesitate. It looked like there was something she wanted to say, and Young found himself lingering by the door to give her the chance to speak her mind.

"I..." she said, and his radio crackled.

" _Colonel Young, we're on our way to the infirmary._ " It was Brody's voice, and by the time Young had replied and turned back to TJ, her face had closed off.

"What was it you wanted to say?" he asked, but she shook her head.

"It can wait."

He nodded at her and tried hard to ignore the uncomfortable tension as they waited for Chloe to show up.

 

* * *

 

Tamara watched warily as everyone filed out of the infirmary.

Eli gave Chloe a wave and a quick smile before disappearing through the doorway, and Tamara didn’t know what to make of the awkward way Young tried to keep his distance as he told Rush not to wait here, that they'd let him know when the surgery was finished.

"You do look kind of exhausted," Eli could be heard from the corridor, and then the doors closed and she and Chloe were finally alone.

Chloe looked at her, a determined hardness behind her wide blue eyes.

"You okay?" Tamara asked. She knew how affected Chloe was by the abduction; she'd given her several refills of the sleeping herbs they'd found on the Eden planet. The idea that there was a tracker somewhere under her skin must be terrifying and invasive and just all around awful.

"Yeah. I just want it out," Chloe said.

Tamara gave her a reassuring smile as she grabbed the metal detector. "Let's get to it then, shall we?"

 

* * *

 

"The surgery was a success," TJ said, when Young walked into the infirmary an hour later. "We found the tracker on the left side of her abdomen, just below the skin." She gestured at a kidney-shaped metal bowl with a tiny, slightly bloody chip in it. It was destroyed, crushed by the butt of a gun, if Young had to guess.

"Good job," he said, giving both her and Chloe a small smile. "Are you okay?"

Chloe let her fingers skim over the slight lump of the bandage under her shirt. "Yeah, I'm fine. Can I go?"

"Of course," he nodded. "Becker's serving an interesting version of lasagna in the mess. It's not bad."

She gave him a weak smile and sent TJ a meaningful look before making her way out of the infirmary.

An uncomfortable silence descended upon the room. He was just about to turn away when TJ spoke.

"I'm pregnant."

For a second or two, Young thought he must've misheard. But TJ's gaze was steady and resolved, and when it dawned on him that she was serious, it felt as if time stopped. His blood roared in his ears, and he could count every individual hair that had wormed its way out of her elaborate up-do as his focus pinpointed from one to the next. His heart thumped loud and heavy in his chest.

"You're pregnant," he heard himself say. His voice sounded as if it was coming from the other side of the room. "How... how far along are you?"

"About twenty-two weeks," TJ answered quietly. She was scared, Young realized. Scared of his reaction. But she held her head high and looked him straight in the eye, and in that moment he loved her more than ever before, because she was so strong, and so beautiful, and just so damn amazing. "It's yours. Ours."

The surrealistic haze lifted from his mind with those words, and Jesus, TJ was _pregnant_. She was having a baby - _his_ baby - on this ship, and oh God, he'd thought everything had been falling apart before, but this... this was a whole new level of fucked.

"A baby... on this ship," he said. Tasting the words in his mouth did nothing to decrease their absurdity.

"I'm keeping it." She looked at him defiantly, tears brimming in her eyes.

"I didn't say you shouldn't."

"What are you saying?"

He was going to lose Emily for sure, now. He was going to lose his command. He was going to lose _everything_ , but still there was a part of him that exulted at the idea of that small life growing inside TJ's belly.

His baby.

He was going to be a father, and all the reasons why he and Emily had decided not to have kids were at least twice as valid in this situation; this was probably the worst time and place for this to happen, but now that it _was_ happening... He wanted it. As much as he didn't.

It felt like hope and hopelessness struggled for dominance in his brain. He wanted to laugh and he wanted to cry, and Christ, he wasn't _ready_ for this, not in the slightest, and TJ was waiting for an answer. She needed him.

She needed him to be better than this.

He took her hand and kissed it, making the gesture as tender and comforting as he possibly could.

"We're gonna make this work, that's what we're gonna do," he said, watching the the light catch a tear streak on her cheek. "We're gonna make this work. Okay?"

It seemed to be enough, because the next thing he knew she moved closer and hugged him quietly. It was awkward and a little too stiff, but for a moment she rested her head on his shoulder, and the smile she gave him afterwards was grateful and sweet.

Just for a second, he felt like maybe he did the right thing here.

 

* * *

 

In hindsight, going to Rush's quarters to tell him about the surgery might not have been the best idea. 

Young's mind was still reeling from the news of TJ's pregnancy, and the longer he thought about it, the less likely it seemed it _would_ be okay. Because he was TJ's superior, and Camile had had her suspicions about them before, but now it would be flat-out impossible to keep their affair a secret.

Fraternization. An ugly word for an ugly situation, and he couldn't believe how he'd managed to get himself into such a fucking mess, how he'd screwed up _everything_ \- his marriage, his career, his entire goddamn life back on Earth. How was he going to be a good father to his child? He was holding on by the skin of his teeth here, how was he going to raise a kid?

He found himself in front of Rush's quarters; it was in one of the relatively uninhabited corridors. Eli had stuck a post-it note with Rush's name next to the door jamb, and Young focused on the blocky handwriting as he rapped his knuckles against the metal frame.

Rush opened the door, looking distressed. When he saw it was Young his expression turned almost pleading, and Young stepped inside the room before he could be invited in, if only to brush past Rush and feel that shudder of satisfying warmth skitter along his nerves. If only to distract himself from his current predicament for half a second.

"What happened?" Rush asked, and Young realized he must've read something of Young's inner turmoil on his face, because he could hear the fear in Rush's voice.

He was tempted to reach out, to put his hand on Rush's arm and feel the skin underneath his fingertips. It was so much harder to ignore how much he wanted Rush when they were alone like this, when his mind was a whirlwind of worry and lust and a deeper, more insistent _want_.

"It went fine, we got the tracker out," he said evenly. "We're safe."

Rush closed his eyes, then, and sagged back against the wall. Every line in his body radiated relief, and the shaky breath he inhaled made Young burn with desire. He didn't realize how close he'd gotten until Rush looked up at him, eyes wide and searching, and it was too easy to reach out his hand and angle Rush's face toward him.

"Thank you," Rush breathed, and Young wasn't sure if he was talking about the news of the tracker, or believing him in the first place, or for what he was about to do, but it didn't matter – all that mattered was that he was touching Rush. His mind both calmed and thrilled at having him so close, and yes, this felt like he could lose himself, even if it was just for a little while.

He pressed his lips against Rush's in a move that felt both calculated and completely improvised. It was quick enough that he didn't have time to stop himself, but slow enough to be starkly aware of every sensation - Rush's stubble against his skin, Rush's lips soft and just a touch dry, Rush's shallow inhale as he realized what was happening.

Young felt a deep shock run through him when Rush surged forward, pressing into him deeper with such abandon and so little finesse that there was no doubt in Young's mind he'd never done this before. It should've made him more careful, that knowledge, but instead it set flame to the lust that had been with him since the ceremony, and all he could think about was claiming Rush for himself as he pushed his tongue into Rush's mouth. _Mine_.

Rush made a surprised little noise in the back of his throat, and Young felt his blood rush downward as the sound turned into a deep, astonished moan. God, it was so good to finally give in to his urges, to press Rush into the wall behind him and take his lips like they belonged to him.

Rush's was more than enthusiastic, wrapping his arms around Young's neck and turning the kiss so dirty it was impossible to think of anything but this, right here. It was exactly what Young wanted, and before he knew what he was doing he found himself scrabbling at the edges of Rush's shirts, pulling them up to his armpits, out of the way, and plastering his hands all over Rush's naked skin. It was habit more than conscious choice to run his hands up to Rush's chest, to brush his thumbs over his nipples in wide sweeps, but Rush pressed into his touch with wild abandon.

" _Oh_ ," Rush said, amazement and wonder running through his voice, and then he was kissing him again, as if he never wanted to stop, as if just this was more than he knew what to do with.

Young could feel Rush's mind against him. That smooth, velvety shell fitting snugly against his own being, warm and comforting and so fucking enticing. He held back from pushing inside, though, despite the nearly overwhelming desire to do so. That would be too much, that would mean there was no way back, he was sure of it, so instead he focused on the physicality of Rush - the hard press of his erection against Young's hip and the uncoordinated way he thrusted against him, providing them both with a friction that was nearly as rough as it was wonderful.

Christ, he wanted more, he wanted to see Rush come undone, to hear more of those surprised noises, to feel... to _taste_ , yes, to taste Rush on his tongue, that was what he wanted. He would make Rush experience what it was to be human. He would swallow him down and give him more pleasure than he'd know what to do with. He'd make it so that Rush would never be able to find anyone that could make him feel like Young did, and fuck, all of it was going to be over way too soon if they kept this up. Rush’s fingers found the zipper of his uniform jacket and opened it, pushing it out of the way, and his hand crept under Young’s shirt gingerly, skimming over his skin, as his other arm cinched tightly around Young’s neck again.

Young broke away from the kiss with some difficulty - Rush was forceful and determined, and there was something thrilling about being with someone who actually stood a chance at overpowering him, even if Young was physically stronger.

"Bed," he panted, as he put his hands on Rush's ass and lifted him up bodily. Rush made an eager sound and wrapped his legs firmly around his hips before licking his way back into Young's mouth. God, he couldn't get enough of kissing, and Young wished it wasn't so damn charming, because he was already in deeper than he probably should be.

He laid Rush out on the bed and crouched over him, rucking his shirts up a little higher to suck a trail of kisses from one nipple to the other. Rush moaned and threw his head back, and Young felt his own dick twitch excitedly. He hadn't ever done this before, and the idea of what he was about to do was making passionate nerves flit down his spine.

 _God_ , _yes_ , his mind supplied, and it was easy to follow his desire, licking and sucking down Rush's abdomen, working his pants open with a few effective flicks of his fingers, and pushing them down along with his underwear. Rush helped him readily, lifting his hips and then sitting up on his elbows, following Young's every move with an expression of open-mouthed lust.

Having Rush watch him like this only made everything feel more acute, more real, and his heart pounded heavily in his chest as he carefully took hold of Rush's erection, the length of it hard and alien in his hand, and gave it a slow stroke.

"Yes," Rush said breathlessly, and Young snapped his eyes up to his face. A thrill of electricity went through him when their gazes caught. Rush's eyes were nearly black in this light, and they widened almost comically when Young angled his cock closer to his mouth and licked an experimental stripe up its shaft.

" _Oh_ ," Rush said again, and the deep rumble in his voice emboldened Young to take it further. To pull his foreskin down with his hand, to take Rush's tip in his mouth and lap his tongue over it with the slow, languid swipes that always made him feel relaxed and turned on in such a bewitching combination that he thought he might shake out of his skin. He'd never known what it was like from this side, how good it felt to give this type of pleasure, but Rush's moan was stunning, and God, yeah, he wanted to hear more.

He looked up, finding Rush's gaze on him still, thick and burning with desire, and once again he was distinctly tempted to break into that silky lining of his consciousness, to push through and feel Rush against him, _all_ of Rush, everywhere. Instead, he pulled his lips over his teeth and slid his mouth further down Rush's dick, sucking him inside.

"Young!" Rush cried, and yes, that was better. Or, if not better, at least safer. He ignored the panicky voice in the back of his mind that told him he really couldn't be doing this and focused instead on setting up a rhythm of sorts, moving up and down carefully, building to a faster pace as his confidence grew.

Dimly, he was aware that Rush was still watching him, small moans falling from his lips every so often and hips twitching erratically. Young put his free hand on Rush's abdomen, keeping him down, and sucked harder.

"Yes," Rush said again, turning the word into a whiny hiss that made Young distinctly aware of how fucking much this was turning him on, and that shrill voice in the back of his mind had some choice words to say about that, but it was easy to shove it aside as Rush fell back onto the bed, his hands curling up over his eyes, and begged him not to stop.

He didn't intend to stop, not before Rush was done, and fuck, his own erection pushed painfully against the confines of his pants as he continued sliding his mouth up and down Rush's cock.

"Young, _Young_ ," Rush babbled, and then his entire body spasmed, his back arching high and his hips bucking up so hard Young almost lost his grip on him. Rush made a low, breathless sound as his orgasm ripped through him, spilling himself into Young's mouth. Young closed his eyes and swallowed quickly, trying not to think on what he was doing, and definitely trying not to acknowledge the way his own dick strained even more desperately for attention.

When Rush was done, Young drew off and sat back to look at him. Rush looked entirely ruined - panting, face flushed, eyes heavy-lidded and dazed.

 _Yeah_ , Young thought, as a swell of pride ran through him. _I did that_.

He opened his pants and palmed his cock through the fabric of his underwear before taking it out and closing his fist around it. God, he was already so close, his tip slick with precome.

He didn't expect it when Rush surged forward, dragged him back down on the bed next to him, and kissed him fiercely as he clambered on top of him, but yes, that was even better.

"I want," Rush breathed against his mouth, and then he was moving lower, pushing his shirt out of the way, and pressing wet kisses into the skin of Young's neck, his chest, and Jesus, he wanted to _reciprocate_. Young let out a startled groan, partly due to the thought of Rush wanting to suck him off, and partly due to the stinging sensation of his nipple being bitten just a bit too roughly. Rush licked over it once, and then pressed a kiss to it, and it felt like an apology and a promise, and _fuck_ , he wanted to come so bad.

"Rush," he said, and Rush looked up at him, pupils blown and stray hairs plastered to his forehead with sweat. "Please."

"Yeah. Yes," Rush answered, and then he inched lower. Young let his head fall back against the mattress. He felt a deep shudder run through him as he waited for Rush to touch him, to take him into his mouth, and shit, he knew he wasn't going to last long, not with all this pant-up arousal skittering along every single one of his nerve endings.

Finally, _finally_ Rush's hand curled around his erection, squeezing gently and stroking a fingertip over the edge of his dickhead. Young couldn't contain the noise that spilled out of his mouth, and Rush hummed agreeably before Young was suddenly engulfed in soft, wet heat.

" _Fuck_ ," he breathed out. Rush bobbed down too quickly, too far, and Young winced when he felt one of Rush's incisors scrape along his length. Rush drew back fast and spluttered, coughing, and Young pushed himself up on his elbow to reach for his face.

"Easy," he said gently, cupping Rush's jaw and running his thumb along his cheekbone. "Take it slow. You don't have to..."

Rush gave him a look he couldn't even begin to interpret, and slid his hand up and down Young's cock smoothly before giving him a tight nod. "I want to. I can do it."

"Yeah," Young answered, and he couldn't help smiling a little at how determined Rush seemed about this. He let his thumb drift to the corner of Rush's mouth, and pushed in slightly. "Just... Careful with the teeth, okay?"

Rush bit his fingertip mildly in response before pulling away and taking Young's cock into his mouth once more. It was different now that Young could actually see Rush, see him closing his lips around his dick, and Young exhaled roughly at the sight. Rush flicked his tongue against the head a few times before slipping further down, slower and more controlled, and Jesus, yeah, Young definitely wasn't going to be able to make this last.

Rush found a rhythm moving up and down, getting used to the sensation, quickening his pace and increasing the suction until Young felt that warm, tightening urgency of impending orgasm pool deep in his belly.

"Christ, Rush, that’s so good," he groaned with a tremor in his voice. Rush moaned against him, and the vibrations tickled in all the right places, and Young let himself collapse back against the mattress as Rush moved over him in slick, wet slides.

It didn't take long for the pleasure to coalesce into something nearly tangible, and he felt his abdominal muscles clench erratically. "Jesus, I'm going to--" he bit out, and then he was coming, an explosion of _God, yes, Rush_ , and a warm surge of gratified lust that pulsed through his entire body. Rush swallowed around him, and in the distance Young heard himself moan deeply and then everything was reduced to the blood roaring in his ears. His orgasm razed through him, leaving him warm and tingling and feeling just for a second as if everything was right with the world, until he found himself panting against his own arm as he came down from it.

He didn't really notice Rush moving until suddenly he thrusted his tongue into Young's mouth - and Young was not thinking about how he could taste himself, because that would be kind of a stupid thing to worry about after blowing Rush. He let himself be swept away by the kiss, relishing the way Rush pushed his hands into his hair, cupped his face like he intended to keep Young here, right here, forever.

Slowly, though, Young started to realize what he'd just done. It was impossible to keep the voice of reason at a distance now that his libido was sated, and Jesus Christ, why had he ever thought this was an acceptable idea?

He had a wife on Earth, one who was already on the verge of serving him with divorce papers. He had an ex-lover who was pregnant with his baby. And now he had slept with an alien, someone he'd been bonded to in a ceremony that did God knew what to their psyches, and fuck, how did he continually manage to make the worst possible decision in any given situation?

Rush stopped kissing him and drew back. "Okay?" he asked, and Young had no idea to what exactly Rush was referring. But his eyes were searching his face, and he looked a little insecure, and Young couldn't take this out on Rush. He had done nothing wrong.

"Yeah," he replied with forced composure and a slight smile. "That was amazing."

Despite himself, he leaned forward to kiss the corner of Rush's mouth, where his lips had quirked up in response to the compliment.

"I should go," Young said, drawing away and moving to sit on the edge of Rush's bed. He buttoned himself back up and straightened out his shirt and his jacket, but before he could stand up Rush leaned into him and kissed him again.

It was the least Young could do to allow him that much, and he couldn't deny to himself that he truly did enjoy the warm slide of Rush's tongue against his own. Every fiber of his being told him that this was where he was supposed to be. Right here, with Rush, forever. God, the way Rush kissed, desperate and earnest and deep… it was impossible not to crave more.

Jesus, he couldn’t be doing this.

His body was reluctant to break away, but he needed to go now or he'd never leave, and that wasn't an option.

"Thank you," he said weakly, and Rush gave him a soft smile.

It was hard to get up, and even harder not to look back as he walked to the door. He stopped in front of it and cast a glance over his shoulder. Rush was still sitting there, looking at him with an expression that seemed both satisfied and slightly confused.

"Good night," Young said, and stepped out into the corridor.


	5. Chapter 5

Rush was distracted. He had been over this set of calculations again and again, and while he knew his work was accurate, the results weren't making any impression on his preoccupied brain. He flipped through the pages of his notepad again, as if reviewing the numbers one more time would make any difference. But all he saw on every page was Young, with his eyes half-closed, his lips red and wet from their kisses, his skin flushed and damp, his dark hair tousled. Young, looking awed and triumphant and desperate all at once after watching Rush come. Young, sated and gorgeous after his own orgasm.

Several days had passed since that night. Young hadn't initiated any physical contact since then, and he hadn't been very receptive the one time Rush had cornered him in a quiet hallway and stolen a brief kiss. Not that Young had pushed him away. He had returned the kiss, keeping it soft and sweet, but then he'd stepped back with a reluctant, troubled expression in his eyes and made an excuse to walk away. Thinking of his wife, perhaps? Clearly, he was still feeling torn about his human marriage, but it was was equally clear now that he was as affected by the bond as Rush was. That was something of a relief, because it had not been evident at first. Before their coupling, Rush had simply assumed that Young felt no attraction for him. That was normal in asexual species, and perhaps Young was an asexual member of his race. But there was no doubt now that Young wanted him. He was just denying himself that pleasure out of… what? Fear? Guilt? Some code of honor that Rush couldn't make any sense of? Rush wasn't sure, but he really hoped it wouldn't last long. All this speculation and sexual frustration was hell on his productivity.

It was perhaps unfortunate that the sex had done little to strengthen their bond. Young had kept his mind closed against Rush's, and Rush wasn't frustrated enough to break all established rules for bonding with other species and force his way in. So it had been a physical act only, and that was fine. That was probably good, in fact, because Rush still had something to hide from Young. If Young had found something wrong in Rush's mind - the damage done by the Nakai, whatever form it happened to take - it might mean the end of Rush's time on Destiny. A stronger bond would naturally keep Rush safer from the Nakai, but that was a hard thing to explain to a member of a non-psychic race.

Young understood the concept of guarding against physical threats. His race possessed isolated minds that could only be psychically influenced with close contact and great effort. Guarding against psychic threats required a different approach, a different way of thinking that Young might not even be capable of. If Young found out that Rush posed a threat to his crew, wouldn't he choose to deal with it in a physical manner? Of course he would. That would make more sense to him than a gentler, non-physical alternative.

Rush had known when he'd agreed to this bond that he wouldn't be able to open up completely to his bondmate. He had assumed that it wouldn't matter - it was Destiny he wanted, after all. It was Destiny that had called to him across twenty years of rigorous study, a tantalizing glitter of hope amidst an endless, dark future. And here he was, living his dream, and he couldn't even make sense of his own calculations because he was too busy thinking about his bondmate, a man who still wouldn't commit to him and couldn't be trusted to look out for his interests.

This was ridiculous. Rush was starting to behave like a lovelorn fool, and he wasn't. Never that, never again. Young was good for sex, companionship, and protection at best. At worst, he was just another threat to Rush's welfare. They weren't in love. They weren't even friends.  

Rush needed to _focus_.

He flipped through his notebook again, irritated enough to finally shove Young to the edges of his thoughts. That was when the numbers began to take on meaning again, and the story they told was not a happy one. Oh, _shit_. This was actually serious, much more so than his silly musings about Young.  Rush looked through the calculations again, and then one more time for confirmation. Then he reached for his radio.

"Colonel Young? You're needed in the control interface room. It's urgent."

Young's voice was rough - possibly with sleep (what time of day was it again? Rush tended to lose track) - as he replied, "On my way."

Rush set down his radio and stared blankly at his console. Somehow, he was going to have to break it to Young that under current conditions, Destiny wasn't going to make it to the next galaxy, at least not in FTL. She just didn't have enough power. Young would want Eli to double-check his calculations, but it wouldn't make any difference. It wouldn't take Eli long to get up to speed and verify Rush's data. If Rush hadn't been so twisted up in his mind over Young, he would have caught this earlier.

Compared with this latest disaster, all his other problems suddenly seemed insignificant. It would be horribly ironic if this was the thing that stole his dream from him. Not Young abandoning him on some planet. Not the Nakai coming to steal him away again. Just an old, worn out ship with limited power reserves and an inefficient FTL drive. How disappointing. How mundane.

He couldn't let it happen. He would find some kind of solution. He would--

He didn't get the opportunity to complete that thought. A sudden, intense flash of pain radiated through his skull and exploded behind his eyes. The seed of wrongness lurking in the back of his mind had cracked open, and now it was sprouting black tendrils that wormed their way into every part of his consciousness. Darkness crowded up to smother him. Somewhere, someone was screaming, but it couldn't be him - that wasn't his voice, was it? Maybe it was. Maybe it was every voice he had ever spoken in, combined into one overpowering shriek of rage and loss and fear. Or maybe it was only in his head, because his lips were closed and his body was rigid and his heart rate had already normalized after its initial spike. He was a statue. He was a puppet. He was...

He was nothing. He was no one. Everything was fine, and he was perfectly calm, and he had work to do.

He set his notebook down on the console and strode off down the nearest corridor.

 

* * *

 

When he came back to himself in an unfamiliar hall with no memory of how he got there, Rush's first independent thought was that he greatly preferred mundane problems after all.

The dark fog was receding from his brain, and the little corner of his mind that no longer belonged to him had gone dormant once more. A wave of nausea washed over him and nearly brought him to his knees. His head throbbed as if someone was hammering nails into his temples, and every part of his body trembled uncontrollably. He was sick and terrified and he needed help, but there was no one to turn to. No one could protect him from this. No one could _forgive_ him for this.

He had just done something terrible. He knew it, even though he didn't know what he'd done yet. But this… If his mental map of Destiny was correct, this corridor wasn't far from one of the maintenance access points for the FTL drive. Oh _fuck_ . What had he _done_?

Rush's stomach twisted dangerously. He stumbled and braced himself against the nearest bulkhead, dizzy and overwhelmed. Whatever he had done, he had to find a way to fix it before anyone realized, assuming it was even the sort of thing that _could_ be fixed. What if he had just damaged the ship beyond repair, wrecking the lives of every person on board?

And if he did fix it, what then? What would he break - who would he _hurt_ \- next time? The Nakai had just proven that their power over him was so much greater than he'd ever feared. He would never fend off another mental attack, not in his current condition. He needed the bond, but it wasn't strong enough yet to shield him. Maybe he could boost it somehow without completely opening his mind up to Young, but that would involve actually getting close to Young and under the circumstances…

"Rush!"

Oh fuck, that was Young's voice now. Rush tilted his head, peeked out from under his hair to see the colonel striding purposefully down the corridor. Had he used their bond to locate Rush? How nice to think that the mental connection which couldn't keep Rush safe from the Nakai could lead another potential danger right to his doorstep at the worst possible moment.

"Why don't you have your radio with you?" Young asked, stopping a few feet away. His face was stern and impassive as usual, but Rush thought he detected suspicion in his eyes. Or perhaps that was just Rush's own guilty conscience at work.

"I forgot it," Rush gasped, because he couldn't exactly say that he had been remote controlled by his enemies and had just done something horrible against his will. _Fuck_ , he felt sick.

"What are you doing here?" Young asked, taking another step toward him. "The ship just dropped out of FTL and no one seems to know why. Do you?"

"I think… I--" Rush broke off and doubled over as his nausea spiked. His stomach heaved and ejected its contents all over the deck. As his whole body shook with the spasms, he felt fingertips brush against his temples and realized that Young was standing close by, holding back his hair. That was… nice of him. A small, unexpected kindness, and so much more useful than the demands and questions Rush had been expecting.

The shudders died down, leaving Rush empty and wrung out. He spat a few times, and then he slowly straightened. His legs didn't quite want to hold him, but he managed to stay upright by leaning against Young's solid frame. A comforting arm wrapped around his torso, pulling him closer, and Rush was too exhausted to be anything but grateful for the support.

Young reached into a pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He dabbed gently at Rush's mouth, staring down at him with troubled eyes. "You need to go to the infirmary."

"No, no," Rush said fretfully, "I'm fine."

"You're clearly not fine," Young insisted. "TJ ought to have a look at you."

Rush started to shake his head, but he stopped when the corridor started spinning around him. "She can't help me," he gasped, "She can't help this. I'm not sick."

He felt Young's hand in his hair again, and he felt his eyes prick at the simple tenderness of the gesture. It was, he realized, the first time his bondmate had touched him in a way that felt neither dutiful nor sexual. Rush blinked, forbidding the threatening tears from welling up, but he was scared and physically weakened, and it was possible that he wasn't entirely successful.

"What is it, then?" Young murmured. "What's wrong with you?"

"The bond," Rush said, seizing on the first credible lie that presented itself. Yes, that was a good one. That might even produce beneficial results. "It's not strong enough."

"Our bond is making you sick?"

"It's too weak. It's not healthy--"

"--and therefore you're not healthy," Young finished for him. He sounded unsettled, but not in a way that made Rush suppose he wasn't buying it. On the contrary, he sounded almost guilty, as if he blamed himself for Rush's condition. That was unfair, but Rush wasn't about to correct him. He needed Young on his side, and he needed the protection of their bond too much to spare Young's feelings.

"What do I need to do?" Young asked. "Do we have to… like we did during the bonding ceremony? Open our minds to each other?" He sounded torn between desire and reluctance.

"No," Rush said, because that was exactly what he could _not_ afford to do now. "We can start smaller… There are exercises…"

"Why don't we go back to my quarters and you can tell me about them," Young suggested. "You need to rest."

"The FTL drive…"

"The rest of the science team is working on it, and you can join them as soon as you're stronger. You're no good to anyone like this. Come on."

Rush didn't even try to argue. He _did_ need to rest, even though it chafed him to leave a problem unsolved even for a little while, especially when that problem endangered all their lives. Without FTL, Destiny was an easy target for the Nakai, and he wouldn't be at all surprised if his tormentors now knew the ship's exact location thanks to him. But it would take them a while to catch up to Destiny, so there was a little time. The most important thing now was to strengthen the bond so that he wouldn't fall prey to psychic manipulation again. So he curled an arm around Young's back and slumped against him as they started walking back up the corridor toward the living areas of the ship.

 

* * *

 

Young didn't pester Rush with questions or any conversation at all as they walked, for which Rush was very grateful. Instead, Young kept a steadying arm around him and radioed Eli to say he'd been found. He also ordered an airman to collect a mop and bucket and proceed to the corridor they had just left. Rush suspected he wasn't going to be very popular with that particular soldier for a while, but he didn't give a damn.

He spent the trip to Young's quarters formulating answers to potential searching questions that Young might ask him. When they finally arrived and Young sat Rush down on his bed, Rush was feeling confident enough to preempt any questions completely. "I suspected that the drive was going to overload," he said softly, with what he considered to be a convincing degree of regret. "I was hoping that an emergency shutdown would prevent it, but without full control of the ship, I couldn't do that from the control interface room. I was going to see if I could find a way to shut it down manually."

"But you started feeling sick," Young guessed, handing him a bottle of water.

Rush nodded and accepted the bottle. He took a few swigs, and then watched curiously as Young retrieved a second bottle from his desk and drank from it.

"What's that?" Rush asked.

"Some of the liquor we got from your people," Young said.

"Give it here," Rush prompted, stretching out a hand toward Young.

Young regarded him with a thoughtful expression and the barest hint of a humorous quirk to his lips. "Is that a royal command?"

"If you like," Rush said, too tired to feel nettled.

"It will make you sicker," Young warned.

Rush shook his head stubbornly and refused to withdraw his hand. The subtle bite of alcohol was just what he needed to clear his head and wash away the taste of bile from his tongue. And he wouldn't mind drinking enough to feel just a touch more relaxed, under the circumstances. The fine tremor that still afflicted his whole body was completely unhelpful, for one thing, and he needed to be calm and collected if he was going to work on strengthening his bond with Young without revealing too much of what was in his mind.

Young approached the bed again and surrendered his bottle to Rush. "Don't throw up on the bed."

"I wasn't planning on it," Rush grumbled. He took a long drink from the bottle and then closed his eyes as a soothing warmth spread outwards from his belly to the rest of his body. Yes, that was what he'd needed. He took a few sips more, savoring the crisp flavor and enjoying the way the alcohol transformed the shakiness of his limbs into a pleasant bonelessness.

The mattress gave slightly as Young settled on the bed beside him. Their shoulders bumped together, and their thighs just barely touched. The renewed contact was as welcome to Rush as the alcohol. Young's presence made him feel safe, which was absurd considering that Young was one of the greatest threats to Rush's safety. But there was something about him, something deep and steady and strong, that made Rush wish he could trust him. If they had been completely open with each other, unveiling all their secrets and willingly sharing the same mindspace, their bond could have been the stuff of legends. The compatibility was there. The desire was there. It was only transparency that they lacked.

"When you radioed me earlier," Young asked quietly, "was it about the FTL drive?"

Rush opened his eyes and shot Young a sidelong look. This, at least, he could be honest about. "Only indirectly," he replied. "I had some rather bad news to impart, actually."

"Because the drive overloading is just a minor inconvenience."

Rush sighed irritably and took another swig from the bottle before saying, "I didn't realize that was going to happen until after I spoke to you, and it was a problem that required immediate action."

Young nodded, looking thoughtful but not particularly suspicious. It was so hard to tell with him, though. There were variations to his expressions, but they were subtle and easy to misinterpret. "So what were you going to tell me?"

Rush looked back down at the bottle in his hands and rolled it between his palms. "I was going to say that according to my calculations, we don't have enough power to reach the next galaxy. We'll get close, relatively speaking, but then the power reserves will dry up and we'll drop out of FTL. Destiny will drift the rest of the way, but we'll be long dead before she makes it."

There was a long pause. "And that's your 'rather bad' news?" Young asked dryly.

"Well," Rush said, slightly confused by his tone. "It _is_ bad."

Young lowered his head and rubbed at his temples. "Yeah, I can see that. In fact, it sounds like you're telling me we're all dead, even without the new problem with the FTL drive. Do you have any possible solutions?"

Perhaps there were some advantages to a commander who kept his emotions beneath the surface, Rush reflected. Young sounded tired and unhappy, but if he was panicking, he hid it well. That was good. It helped Rush keep his own nervousness under control. "If the efficiency of the FTL drive could be increased by even a few percentage points, that could make the difference. I've studied the seed ship's FTL drive extensively, and I'm familiar with drive technologies developed by other species."

"You think you can fix it?"

"Well," Rush murmured, "I certainly intend to try."

He felt Young stir beside him, and their shoulders rubbed together in a way that felt almost intentional. "What do you need? What would help?"

Rush didn't even try to deny himself the comfort of leaning into that touch. "The bond," he said simply.

Young turned his head toward him and his lips brushed against Rush's hair. Warmth flared low in Rush's gut, despite his exhaustion, fear, and lingering weakness. He took another drink, hoping to distract himself with the gentle sting of the alcohol sliding down his throat, but Young's closeness wasn't the sort of thing he could ignore.

"I'm sorry about that," Young said unexpectedly.

Rush lifted his head and raised his eyebrows. Young's face was close, and his eyes were troubled.

"I didn't know what I was doing when I agreed to bond with you. I thought… well, it doesn't matter. I was wrong." Young's eyes dropped to the bottle in Rush's hands, and when he reached for it, Rush gave it up willingly. Young took a drink and then muttered, "This is happening to you because of me."

Rush bit his lip to keep himself from denying it. He didn't like Young's tone - tired, laced with self-reproach, with just a hint of bitter humor that seemed to say, 'look at that, I've done it again.' Yes, Young left something to be desired as a bondmate. No, he had not given Rush the support and intimacy that could have kept him safe from the Nakai. But now Rush had led him to believe that his neglect had resulted in Rush's present condition, and that wasn't quite fair. Rush wasn't quite comfortable with that.

"We'll soon set it right," he said in what was meant to be a bracing tone, but which came out softer and less confident than intended.

"Just tell me how," Young said. "You said there were exercises?"

"Yes. Or," Rush amended, "that's how I typically think of them. They have practical purposes as well, but as a means of strengthening psychic connections, they're particularly useful. Tell me, how did you find me today?"

Young made a soft humming sound deep in his throat and his forehead creased in puzzlement. It appeared that he had not even considered that question until now. Had he simply followed his instincts, never pausing to ask why he knew exactly where Rush would be? He was such an odd creature.

"I went to the control interface room, and you weren't there," he said slowly. "After that, I just started walking, and I found you."

"No detours, no wrong turns…?"

Young shook his head. "I knew," he said, and his voice was a soft rasp. "I knew right where to go." His frown deepened, and he fortified himself with another drink before asking, "Can you do that? Find me, even if you don't know where to look?"

"Yes," Rush said. "The bond is like a tether between our minds. We're always linked - always in contact. If you were on the other side of the galaxy, I'd know which way to point my ship to find you again." He observed the thinning line of Young's mouth and added, "That's meant to be comforting."

Young's lips quirked in wry amusement at that. "Yeah, well. I'm used to a little bit more privacy."

"You're military. Surely you're used to being constantly monitored, and not always by people who have your best interests at heart."

"And you have my best interests at heart?"

At first, Rush thought the question was meant to be sarcastic - that Young was scoffing at the very idea that Rush could care about his well being. But then he realized that Young's gaze was open and direct. There was no challenge there, no mocking looks, no cynical doubt. Just a simple, artless question. An invitation to openness that was itself a kind of confession, because why would Young bother to ask if he did not care about the answer?

"Yes," Rush replied softly, because it was the truth. His focus had been on protecting himself from the Nakai and making sure Young didn't maroon him on some lonely planet, but every step he'd taken to preserve his own place on Destiny had been for Young's benefit too. Now that he'd had time to get his bearings, it was obvious to Rush that this ship and its crew badly needed his expertise. Without him, they wouldn't get far. He was going to do everything in his power to make sure they were _all_ safe, including Young.

 _Especially_ Young.

Young's brows drew together briefly and he blinked once before nodding. Rush didn't know whether to interpret that as surprise or doubt, but he supposed it didn't matter. Young didn't have to know that he was rapidly becoming alarmingly important to Rush, and not just for the sake of the bond or the (admittedly magnificent) sex.

"Okay," Young cleared his throat. "Let's, uh…  Let's hear about these exercises."

Rush smiled at Young's slight awkwardness. It wasn't doubt, then.

"Since our minds are linked at all times, it's possible to send a sort of… energy burst along the link," he began. "It feels… actually, it's a bit hard to describe, so I'll show you in a moment. But you can vary the emphasis and intensity of these bursts to convey different meanings. That's what I meant when I said it had practical applications - it is useful for instantaneous, covert or long-distance communication."

"An energy burst," Young repeated. "Along… our mental link?"

"That's right."

"I don't feel a link, though. I feel almost normal when you're not nearby."

Rush blinked, startled. That was not particularly reassuring. He tilted his head and peered at Young intently through the screen of his untidy hair. "You don't feel anything?"

"Well, I do now because you're sitting right next to me," Young said.

Rush frowned. That didn't sound right. "Distance shouldn't make that much of a difference," he muttered. There were certainly symptoms of the bond that intensified with proximity to one's bondmate - that initial, all-consuming attraction meant to encourage new bondmates into a sexual relationship, for instance. But the bond itself? That was a constant. That didn't fade. Unless… "Oh," he said as realization dawned. "You've been trying to ignore the bond, haven't you? You've been actively suppressing it."

Young stared at him for a few moments in stricken silence, and then he covered his face with a hand. "Shit."

Rush sighed and tried to snuff out a little flicker of hurt. He shouldn't be surprised about this. Young hadn't known what the bond would be like when he'd agreed to it. And afterward, when he found himself trapped in an unfamiliar mental connection, it was entirely natural that he tried to bury it until he barely felt it anymore. Until he could pretend that it didn't exist.

They should have talked. They should have sat down on that first night and come to some understanding about what each of them wanted their relationship to look like. If Rush hadn't been so angry at Young's rejection, he could have explained to Young that the lust would eventually fade if it wasn't fed. That the bond could be nourished in other ways. That they could treat it as a platonic partnership if that was what Young really wanted, however unusual such an arrangement would be. Then maybe Young wouldn't have starved the bond to the edge of viability, and Rush might never have fallen prey to the seed of dark, twisted wrongness in his head.

If Rush had been as pragmatic and scientifically-minded as he liked to think he was, that's what he would have done. But no matter how often he'd told himself that all he wanted was Destiny, there had been a part of him that had wanted another bondmate, too. He missed Gloria. He would never stop missing her, and no one would ever replace her. But he was ready to move on. And while it was foolish to think that he'd ever get that lucky twice - two political bondings resulting in two happy, loving relationships - maybe that had been his secret expectation all along.

He'd never thought of himself as a hopeless romantic before. How embarrassing.

A warm pressure on the nape of Rush's neck drew him out of his reverie. Young had placed his hand there, and his thumb was now trailing lightly back and forth across Rush's sensitive skin. There was a new light of resolve shining through the lingering guilt in his eyes, and Rush experience a small flutter of delight at the sight.

"It won't happen again," Young promised. "Tell me what I need to do."

"Why don't I show you?" Rush replied. He focused his attention on their bond, visualizing the insubstantial tether that spanned the narrow space between their minds, and then he sent a delicate, whisper-soft buzz of energy along it.

Young's lips parted and his nostrils flared as he inhaled. "Oh."

"I assume you felt that?" Rush said, unable to repress a smile of satisfaction.

"I… yeah."

"And you feel the link?"

There was a pause. Young frowned in concentration and said, "Yeah, I think so. Do it again."

Rush sent another light pulse and watched in amusement as Young's eyes closed and his lips curved up at the corners.

"It feels…"

"Like a kiss," Rush suggested.

Young's eyes opened. "I wasn't going to say that."

"No, but you were thinking it. It feels warm, affectionate, comforting, and intimate, right? But change the tone and increase the strength of the signal, and you get this instead."

Rush stilled his mind, pushing away the playfulness and joy that had inspired his previous energy bursts. Instead, he focused on the darker part of his mind where his worst fears and memories lived, and sent a powerful, frenzied surge of energy through the link.

Young's response was instantaneous. He bolted to his feet, sending the bottle of liquor skittering across the floor. He spun toward Rush, his whole body tense, his eyes wild. The strength of his reaction would have been comical if his hands weren't balled into a formidable pair of fists. He looked ready to beat the shit out of something or someone, and Rush was suddenly aware of the fact that he was messing with the fight or flight reflexes of a very dangerous man.

"What the _fuck_ ," Young said, clearly trying to get himself under control. His breathing was labored. He started pacing the floor in front of the bed, ruffling his own hair as if he didn't know quite what to do with himself. " _Shit_. A little warning, maybe?"

"I gave you a warning."

"A more _explicit_ warning," Young growled. "Jesus, Rush. It felt like you were screaming for help. Felt like you were dying."

Rush watched him curiously, intrigued by his distress. "I'm fine."

"No more false alarms, okay?" Young said, coming to a stop in front of him. His chest was still rising and falling with quick, sharp breaths, but some of his habitual calm was already flowing back in to cover his uncharacteristically emotional response. The wildness had left his eyes, but in its place was evidence of a deeper disquiet. "Let's… let's stick to the kisses okay? I liked that better."

"Of course," Rush said soothingly.

"Shit," Young muttered again, as if to ensure that he'd gotten his point across before putting the subject to rest.

Well, at least Rush knew that he had an effective means of getting Young's attention if he was ever in trouble. That was useful. But he quite agreed with Young - no more false alarms. They could just as easily practice their technique with smaller bursts and minimize the threat of adrenaline-fueled violence.

"Why don't you try it on me?" Rush suggested.

"I don't know if I can," Young muttered.

"It's quite easy, once you've gained an awareness of the connection. Which I assume you have, given your reaction just now."

Young sighed and plopped back down on the bed beside Rush, jostling his elbow in the process. Rush thought this invasion of his space was quite deliberate, and he found the pettiness of Young's token revenge amusing.

"So what do I do? How do I control it?" Young asked.

"It has to do with what you're feeling, and what you're trying to say. When you know what sentiment you want to convey, focus on that, and imagine pushing it through the link toward me."

Young frowned again. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in one hand, and then his expression eased into blankness. Rush hoped this was a sign that he was taking things seriously, and not that he had decided to give up already.

It was a while before Rush felt them - tentative slivers of energy, thin and thready and full of doubt. They felt like fragile heartbeats, or timid questions, and Rush couldn't repress a small smile at the feather-like brush of that energy against his mind. He gathered them in, intrigued by their frailty, touched by their warmth, and then he sent them back to Young, stronger than before and full of reassurance.

Young's only reaction was a minute quirk of the lips. His gaze remained distant.

For a while they just sent the little pings of buzzing warmth back and forth between them. Young caught on remarkably quickly and kept Rush amused with his experimentations. But gradually, Rush's responses became sloppy. He was starting to have trouble concentrating, and his limbs, head, and eyelids felt unaccountably heavy. He felt himself sagging into Young's shoulder, supported more and more by his companion's strength.

"You're tired," Young pointed out.

Rush shook his head. This must just be the work of the alcohol. Young probably had been right that it wouldn't help. "No, I just need to clear my head. It's time I was helping Eli with the FTL drive."

"Not too long ago you were puking all over the floor."

"Yeah, I remember that. Thanks."

"I mean," Young said patiently, "that you need to take it easy. You'll be more useful to the science team after you sleep."

Sleep. Rush didn't have time for sleep. Besides, that was where nightmares lived. And what if he let down his guard and the Nakai took control of him again? Could they do that in his sleep? He had no idea. He hoped not.

He felt a soft pulse of energy - comforting, soothing, sweet as a lullaby - and heaved a sigh. Now that Young had learned this form of bonded communication, he was clearly planning to take advantage of it in unscrupulous ways. "You can't put me to sleep through the bond."

"You've scientifically proven that, have you?"

Rush grunted irritably as he leaned his head on Young' shoulder. He couldn't think of an intelligent response to that question because no, he hadn't actually tested his claim.

Young snorted. "I don't have to put you to sleep. You're ready to drop already."

Untrue. Rush's eyes were only drooping shut because he'd been squinting at consoles and calculations all day.

He felt fingers slide through his hair and hummed softly as he thought of the last time Young had done that. He thought of kisses and sweat-slick skin, and supposed that he could put off fixing the FTL drive a little bit longer if Young wanted sex. Rush wouldn't mind that at all. It was just what he needed to energize his mind and body.

Young got an arm around him and gently manhandled him onto his back. Rush's head was on the pillow and his legs were still dangling off the bed, and that felt promising, but for some reason he still wasn't quite ready to open his eyes. Young pulled off his boots one by one, and that was good too. Undressing was good. Rush approved.

But then Young pulled the covers out from under him and dragged his legs up onto the bed before tucking him in. No, that wasn't right. Something had definitely gone wrong with this situation.

"What're you…?"

"Putting you to bed."

"No."

"Jesus, you're like a two-year-old."

Rush finally managed to wrench his eyes open. Young was staring down at him, looking decidedly amused.

"Kiss me," Rush pleaded.

Young hesitated and his smile faltered. After a moment of indecision he nodded and leaned down to press a soft kiss to Rush's forehead, and another in his hair. That wasn't quite was Rush had meant, but it was nice, somehow. Better than he would have expected.

Young eased back and smiled again, more apologetic this time. "Good night."

Rush supposed it wasn't worth fighting it anymore. "Yes, fine," he mumbled, rubbing his cheek against the pillow.

A few moments later, he was asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Young sighed for what felt like the millionth time, and scrubbed a hand through his hair. He was trying to get some paperwork done, keeping an eye on Rush's sleeping form in the mean time, but it was hard to concentrate. Ever since the... the exercises, as Rush had called them, it was impossible to ignore the bond.

Now that he knew it was there he could feel it, like a tether between them, warm and pulsing and _alive_.

It was nearly unfathomable that he'd been able to suppress the link before, because right now it was almost as if he could touch Rush - his presence on the other end of their connection a living, breathing entity at the very edge of his mind. He'd never experienced anything quite like it, and for some reason his fingers kept stealing up to rub against his own lips. They tingled, and so did his fingertips. His entire body, actually, was vibrating with a zinging buzz.

The energy bursts they'd been sending over their link could have practical applications, he was certain of that. But they also felt incredibly good.

He glanced over at Rush again. He'd been sleeping quietly for the past hour and a half, and other than curling up onto his side, he'd hardly moved. The man was obviously exhausted. Young intended to let him sleep as long as possible.

It was disquieting, drifting in empty space without any way to steer the ship or to make it jump back into FTL, but Rush wouldn't be able to contribute much to fixing the FTL drive right now anyway, the state he was in. No, Young was going to let him sleep, let him replenish his reserves, and then he was going to make sure he'd never let Rush dissolve into such a state again. Because it was his fault. He'd neglected their bond, neglected Rush's _needs_ , in a way that had made the man physically sick.

Young blinked at the papers on his desk a few times, but it didn't distract him from the hot flash of guilt as he remembered how utterly miserable Rush had looked in that corridor. He couldn't stop himself from stealing another glance at the man in his bed. He looked better, now. Not as pale. Almost peaceful in slumber.

Studying Rush's features, Young once again found himself pressed by the urge to go over to him, to touch him. He wanted to twist Rush's hair between his fingers, feel his skin beneath his lips, hear those surprised and breathy little sounds Rush had made when they'd...

He dragged his hand through his hair again and tugged hard at the locks near the base of his neck. It wouldn't do to continue allowing himself these thoughts. His personal life was complicated enough without driving himself crazy over how much he wanted to sleep with Rush again.

The thing that really alarmed him, though, was the fact that he wanted _more_ than just sleep with Rush. He wanted to brush away the hair that had fallen over his face, obscuring his closed eyes from view. He wanted to get into bed, roll up close to Rush, and tuck his arm into the hollow of his abdomen. He wanted to protect him, to make sure he'd never have to see him looking so shaken and ill as he had in that corridor.

Somehow, that was worse than the sexual attraction. It felt like more of a betrayal to Emily. To TJ, even.

Because this was something that probably had less to do with the direct consequences of the bonding ceremony and more with the fact that he was starting to _like_ Rush. From his prickly reactions to unexpected setbacks, to the patient, almost coaxing way he explained important things, to his almost innocent wonder at physical human displays of affection; all of it filled Young with a fondness that he couldn't entirely attribute to their bond.

It was... it was stifling, in a way. Because he felt like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place already, and then there was Rush to complicate things even further. Clearly this wasn't fair to Emily. He had cheated on her with two different people at this point, and as much as he would like to blame an alien ritual for his increased libido he couldn't deny there was more at play than just that, by now.

Maybe the right thing to do would be to let Emily go. To let her have the divorce and stop trying to clamp on to the one bit of stability he had left in his life. But Emily was his home. Emily was who he came back to at the end of a mission. Emily was who he thought of when imagining getting off this ship. She was practically the only real thing he had going for him back on Earth, and letting go of that wasn't easy. He wasn't sure he could do it at all, if he was honest.

Young scrubbed his hand over his face and looked back at the sleeping form in his bed. Fuck, he wanted...

He wanted too many things, and he knew he couldn't have them all.

Maybe he should start small. He wanted a shower. Just a quick one. Just so he could clear his mind and wash away some of the day's grime and worries. He checked his watch. The showers were usually empty this time of day. He could steal out for fifteen minutes and clean up - maybe afterwards he'd finally be able to get some work done.

Rush was still out like a light, and now that Young was aware of the bond he was quite sure he'd be able to find Rush if he did decide to wake up and wander off. He was still annoyed that the aliens had really undersold the massiveness of the bonding, and the whole thing was a huge invasion of privacy, but being able to find Rush simply by following their connection... The idea _was_ comforting, when he thought about it in terms of being able to find Rush anywhere.

Grabbing a towel, he quietly made his way out of his quarters and went over to the showers.

Like he'd expected, there was no one there.

The mist spray was warm, as always, and it felt like being cocooned in an isolated cloud of safety. When they’d first come to Destiny he’d missed the showers back home, but once he’d gotten used to the oddly sterile scent of the mist he’d actually started to appreciate Destiny’s shower system. The moisture took mere seconds to bead up and dry once the faucet was turned off, but it felt wet and slippery on his skin while the sprays were on.

Young slicked his hands over his chest, and closed his eyes.

God, everything still tingled. It was hard not to remember the intimate bursts of energy Rush had sent along their link.

'Like kisses,' he'd said, and the thought that that was what his kisses felt like to Rush made something contract hard in Young’s lower belly. Because it had been... it had been nice. Really nice. It had felt like being caressed by loving hands, all over, and there was no way to separate it from sexual arousal. He let his hands linger on the skin of his stomach, rubbing thoughtless circles over himself as he remembered how good it had felt, having Rush send waves of comforting energy through his mind like that.

He was getting hard, turned on by the memory and the awareness that Rush was connected to the other side of their link - that the throbbing heat on the edge of his mind was _Rush_. Rush's mind. Rush's _being_ \- and it took him less than two seconds to decide between working this out or ignoring it until it went away. There was no one here. He'd need less than five minutes. It would clear his head.

He gathered some of the mist in his hand and then closed his fist around his cock, immediately starting to stroke himself with a decisive rhythm. This wasn't about slow desire and drawn-out pleasure - this was about burning something out of him, about finding some quick relief from the chaos in his mind.

Christ, Rush was everywhere. His hands, his eyes, his _mouth_ \- and fuck if the thought of Rush's mouth on him didn't speed things along, because his dick pulsed excitedly at the memory of that blowjob, inexperienced and hot and altogether perfect. Rush had been beautiful, and willing, and _his._ Young leaned his free hand against the wall so he could rest his head on his forearm as he rubbed his other hand over his cock with an increasingly urgent pace.

God, he wanted... he wanted _Rush_. He wanted Rush to touch him like this, to _feel_ like this, to send him energy bursts filled with these sensations, and shit - he should probably make sure he didn't accidentally sent some of his own to Rush right now, because that would be sure to wake the man up and send a very conflicting message.

The quiet hissing of the shower did nothing to drown out the wet sounds of his fist moving over his cock, rapid and unstopping, and that only made his arousal grow even more insistent. Young buried his mouth against the skin of his arm to keep from making any unintended noises, and if he pretended it was Rush's skin against his lips, no one would ever know. He was close, incredibly close, and he let his thumb swipe roughly over the head of his cock, imagining it was Rush touching him like this. God - just that - _yes_.

He hoped to God he succeeded in clamping a metaphorical hand over the link between them as his hips bucked and his orgasm spurted out of him. Jesus, yeah, _fuck_ , the hot release surged all the way to his fingers and toes, and he drew in a couple of hard breaths against his arm. The steamy mist was already dissolving the few drips of come that had landed on his thigh.

Christ. Had jerking off always felt this way, or did the knowledge that Rush was there, bonded to him by an invisible thread, make the whole thing feel so all-consuming?

Young straightened up and rubbed his hands together until they felt clean again. He ran some more of the mist through his hair and allowed his mind to wander for a bit. If he were to commit to Rush - if they managed to build this attraction, this bond, between them into something real and solid - would it be easier to let go of Emily? Of TJ?

Probably, yes.

God, this whole thing was such a mess.

He still felt somewhere between guilty and floating on air when he shut the shower off and dried himself off unceremoniously.

As he clicked his watch back around his wrist he checked for the time. Sixteen minutes since he'd left his quarters. Good. He tied up the laces to his boots and hurried back.

Rush was still there, in his bed - he hadn't moved, it seemed, and that quieted something in the back of Young's mind. Christ, he felt more relaxed, but also more on edge than he had before leaving for his shower. The urge to sit down on his bed, to run his fingers through Rush's hair and place another kiss on his forehead was even harder to ignore now.

Young didn't though. He sat back down in the chair at his desk and tried to focus on the reports in front of him. He was behind. He was always behind on paperwork since coming to Destiny, and he should use the time to catch up on some old work. After a few seconds of deep breaths and concentration exercises, it actually went better than expected.

He got through four reports before Rush drew his attention again.

It was nothing much, just a small movement on the bed - Rush curling in on himself a little - and a quiet moan that sounded like he was in pain.

Young felt his heartbeat ratchet up in response right away, and just looking at Rush's facial expression made it pretty clear the man was having a nightmare. Young resisted the urge to go over to him and place a hand on his shoulder to wake him up. Instead, he focused all his attention on sending a long, reassuring burst of energy along their link.

He watched closely, so he didn’t miss the way Rush's lips twitched into something almost satisfied before he let out another sound - little more than a huff of breath this time - and uncurled ever so slightly.

Young felt something in his chest clench a little, and opted to concentrate on sending another swell of calm and comforting energy to Rush.

Rush reached up an arm, bent it around the edge of his pillow with a small smile, and blinked a few times, slowly. His smile widened fractionally when his gaze landed on Young.

“Felt that,” he mumbled, letting his eyes slip closed again.

“Sleep,” Young said, sending a long, sustained wave of soothing tranquility over their bond.

He watched Rush burrow his nose into the pillow with a contented little sigh. Oh, no.

Oh, shit.

 _God_.

It was entirely possible, he realized, as he listened too closely to the way Rush's breathing evened out into the deep rhythm of sleep, that he was falling in love with an alien prince.

 

* * *

 

In the weeks that followed, Rush had little time to spend alone with Young. The task of fixing the FTL drive took up nearly every waking hour. Within a day, he and Eli had isolated the cause of the drive failure and begun working through possible fixes. The overload had originated in one of the drive's sixteen modules. Fortunately - and Rush hoped that this was evidence that some part of his own consciousness had rebelled against Nakai control - the module he had sabotaged had been the least efficient of the lot. Rather than trying to repair that module, it made more sense to isolate it from the rest of the drive and thereby increase the efficiency of the drive as a whole. In theory, that solution would fix both of their problems quite neatly. In reality, it wasn't going to be an easy job.

His work was absorbing, and it might have effectively put Young out of his mind if not for the bursts of energy that periodically traveled across their bond. Usually they were soft, brief, and almost perfunctory, like a pat on the shoulder to alert Rush that Young was still near. But sometimes they were more complex and innovative. Young had quickly mastered the technique of varying the length and intensity of his signals, and he had begun to take advantage of that fact by communicating with Rush in Morse code. Rush was both amused and grudgingly impressed.

He was less amused by the fact that Young could make him drowsy via their link. Or perhaps more accurately, that Young could push him to focus on the perpetual exhaustion that he otherwise tried to ignore. This translated into more sleep for Rush, but it was possible that the time he lost to sleep was compensated for by increased accuracy and efficiency in his work. He hoped so, anyway. Complaining to Young about his subtle manipulation didn't help - Young always played innocent and claimed he was only trying to strengthen their bond.

And the bond was growing stronger every day, there was no doubt about that. It didn't feel like the connection that Rush had shared with Gloria, and he knew it never would. Not quite. But if he and Young continued to nurture it as they were doing now, he suspected that it could become just as vibrant and secure. Already he could feel it wrapping around his mind like a warm blanket, shutting out the cold touch of probing energies through the infinite void.  There was not even a single stirring of the terrifying darkness that had consumed him before. That twisted part of his mind was not merely dormant now - it felt withered, decayed, powerless. Still present as a reminder of what had been and what could be again, but no longer a constant source of unease. Young had done that. Young was protecting him.

Rush leaned over his console in the control interface room, ostensibly overseeing the repair bot's efforts as it isolated the damaged module, but actually devoting a substantial part of his attention to the bond. He could see it in his mind's eye, translucent and pearlescent and glowing in midair, stretched as it was between this room and Young's quarters. He imagined touching it, and knew it would feel substantial, like braided strands of steel, where once it had been whisper-thin and fragile as spun sugar. It was undeniably beautiful, and so full of possibilities. If Rush could only get the FTL drive fixed before the Nakai came, then everything would be all right. Destiny would make the jump to the new galaxy, and the bond would continue to flourish, and perhaps Rush could rediscover what true joy and peace felt like.

A soft buzz, like the sensation of feathers being dragged across skin, alerted Rush to the fact that Young had noticed his increased focus on the bond and was curious about it. Rush sent a reassuring pulse across their connection.

There was a brief pause, and then Young asked in Morse code, _"OK?"_

 _"Fine,"_ Rush replied.

_"Tired?"_

_"NO,"_ Rush shot back emphatically. This was definitely not a convenient moment for Young's sleep-inducing tricks.

He felt a warm flare of amusement from Young. The bastard.

Rush sighed and shoved the bond back into his peripheral awareness. The repair bot was sending back information about its task, and Rush wanted to stay on top of it in case he needed to make any last minute adjustments to its programming. It was in the final stages of the repairs now, doing some of the most delicate work. The slightest miscalculation on Rush's part could end up doing more damage to the drive instead of fixing it.

Young left him alone for a while, but when the bot was finished and Rush's intense concentration relaxed, he asked, _"Progress?"_

 _"Yes,"_ Rush said, glancing over the new data with a sense of accomplishment. His programming had been accurate, and the damaged part of the drive was now isolated. Now he needed to figure out how to coax Destiny into bypassing the isolated module without having full access to her systems. It wasn't going to be easy.

 _"Onto step two,"_ he informed Young.

_"Good work."_

Rush lips quirked with poorly-repressed fondness. It was easier to hold their conversations via radio, of course, but for very simple exchanges, Rush preferred communicating this way. Not only did it strengthen the bond, it just _felt_ nicer. Radios couldn't transmit emotions. They didn't make him feel like he was part of something breathtakingly wonderful. They didn't reveal the full richness of Young's personality, which burst across the link in a kaleidoscope of vivid hues. No, this was better. More dangerous, perhaps, because Rush knew Young still wasn't as invested in their bond as he was, but better.

It was probably a positive thing that Rush was so preoccupied with his work at present. In the rare moments when he allowed his attention to wander, it invariably drifted in Young's direction. He was growing more attached to the human, that was undeniable. He was also feeling childishly possessive. He knew Young used the communication stones occasionally to visit his home planet. Every time Rush sensed the haziness at the other end of the link signaling the disconnect between Young's body and his conscious mind, he wondered if Young was going to visit his wife. And then loneliness would seep into the cracks in his psyche and remind him that even once Destiny had escaped the Nakai threat and safely reached the next galaxy, he would still have something left to long for.

Against all his efforts and better judgment, he was beginning to realize that he loved his new bondmate. Somehow, that was even more terrifying than the Nakai.


	7. Chapter 7

The day was completely unremarkable - the ship still drifting in space, Rush and Eli still working hard on fixing the FTL drive - exactly the same as yesterday. The only thing that was different about today was that Young was scheduled to use the communication stones for a personal visit to Earth.

 _Earth - not home_ , he thought. _Not anymore. Not really_.

He was going to talk to Emily. She deserved an apology, a better one than he could probably give her, but he was going to try anyway. He'd made up his mind over the past couple of weeks. She wanted him to let her go, she wanted a divorce. And while it still hurt - not just the thought of losing her forever, but the thought of her wanting to be rid of him - he couldn't deny that she was right. Especially now that TJ was going to have his baby. _Especially_ now that he was falling into something that was dangerously close to a relationship with Rush.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Rush sent him a short wave of warm energy over their link. Young suppressed a smile, allowing his eyes to slip closed for a fraction of a second, and sent back his reply in a burst of affectionate purple.

Maybe he shouldn't be doing this, getting so lost in the connection between them - because no matter how good it felt, it was all artificial. Or, that was what he tried to tell himself, at least. All of this, all of these feelings, were a result of that bonding ceremony on Rush's planet. Sometimes that thought calmed something in his head. And sometimes it set off an ache in his chest.

Rush was... Rush was beautiful, and strange, and more often than not the surges of energy Young sent along their link were too full of fondness. Even when he tried to keep the bursts neutral, his emotions refused to be curbed and he ended up sending messages that spoke way too loudly of his burgeoning feelings for the alien man on the other end of the line.

Part of him wanted to cringe away from it all, because this was no way to live - falling from one love into another - but Rush always answered with these amazing flickers of hot, glittering hope, and Young couldn't help but crave more.

God, he really was falling for Rush, and the constant reminder of him on the other side of their connection made it much too seductive to run his fingers over his own skin. It always called up a sense of longing and discomfort, and more than once had Young forced himself to stop before his hand decided to slip beneath the waistband of his pants. He did not always succeed.

Young traced a quiet pattern on the inside of his wrist, unthinkingly, as he waited for the communication stones to be set up.

 _"OK?"_ Rush sent him over their link.

Maybe some of Young's disquiet over getting to see Emily again had crept along their connection.

 _"OK,"_ Young answered, accompanying the message with a strong wave of reassurance and a hint of a smile. Rush worried about him, it seemed. It was impossible not to be endeared by that.

"Ready, sir," Barnes said. He nodded at her and placed the stone on the device.

 

* * *

 

Young got pulled back unexpectedly. One moment he was hugging Emily, both of them saying goodbye to the remnants of a relationship that had been their home for most of their adult lives, and the next moment he was in the control interface room.

"We're under attack, sir!" Scott said, recognizing him without difficulty. Young figured there was a good chance Scott was the one to give the order to get him back from Earth. "It's the aliens who kidnapped Chloe."

Shit. They were out here, completely defenseless without their FTL drive, and they were not _ready_ for this. A distant boom made the deck plating under his feet shudder.

How was this possible? They'd gotten rid of the tracker long before the FTL drive failed. How did the Nakai find them here?

He sent a surge of energy to Rush - surely Rush would have at least some idea of what was going on.

Almost immediately, Rush replied, a stuttery burst of panicky fear, and Young couldn't help but wonder if that was a current of guilt he felt, underneath the shock and the horror. It made his heart race in his chest, because something was wrong. Something was _very fucking wrong_ , because this did not feel like just Rush's terror of the Nakai. This was something more. What was going on?

"Rush!" he said into his radio. He didn't have time to use Morse code, he needed an answer _now_. "What the hell is going on?"

His radio stayed quiet, but Rush sent him another staticky flood of energy over their link - dread and desperation and yes, that was definitely guilt leaking into Young's own mind. Young felt his hands tremble, and he tightened his grip on the radio. What did Rush _do_?

"Rush!"

" _I'm... I'm sorry! I'm almost - I need to fix the FTL drive!_ " Rush's voice sounded as frantic as his energy bursts had felt, and Young cursed.

"Rush, what's going on?" he asked, again. The swell of anguish that Rush sent him over their link made every inch of his skin itch. Rush was... Rush had...

" _Please, Colonel! Hold them off! They can't - you can't let them take the ship; they'll kill us all!_ "

And with a cold shudder, everything started to slot into place. The FTL drive failing, finding Rush near the maintenance entrance to the FTL engines, disoriented and sick, and now Destiny being attacked by the aliens that had kidnapped Chloe...

How had the aliens found them? Fuck, the guilt Rush was feeling, the apology he'd sent over the radio... Did Rush have something to do with it?

Nausea rose from the pit of his stomach as he realized Rush may not have been who Young thought he was at all.

Shit, had he been playing Young all along? Had his entire plan been to lead the Nakai right to their doorstep?

Rush sent him another burst of energy, short and pleading and terrified, and Young had to grit his teeth at the way his own heart pounded loudly in his ears in reflexive response. Was all of this an act? Young didn't even think it was possible to lie over their connection, but maybe it wouldn't be difficult for Rush, who was a different species altogether. Sweat prickled up on the back of his neck and the palms of his hands. Was Rush the enemy?

But... _no_.

These aliens had also kidnapped Rush, and Young remembered exactly how broken Rush had sounded when he'd told him about how they'd tortured him and killed his bondmate. That wasn't, that couldn't have been a lie. There was no way--

\--another loud boom forced Young's thoughts back to the here and now. He didn't have time to worry about Rush's possible involvement in this situation right now, not while they were under attack.

"Fix the drive!" he shouted into his radio, and then he turned to Scott. Jesus, two minutes ago he had been saying goodbye to Emily, and now he was in the middle of an alien battle that could cost him the lives of everyone on board.

"Ready the main weapon, Lieutenant."

 

* * *

 

Rush knew how fast everything could fall apart. He'd lost everything once already. It had happened in the blink of an eye - one moment he had been safe and happy with his bondmate, and the next, he'd been alone and broken and half-insane, his mind no longer quite his own. Perhaps that should have been a lesson to him never to hope for anything again. Or maybe there was no lesson to be learned, no rhyme or reason to what he had suffered and would, it seemed likely, suffer again. Maybe fate was just laughing at all his plans, all his scientific research, the framework of study and logic and truth that he had so carefully rebuilt his life upon.

Or maybe he was just starting to crack under the pressure of this moment.

He and Eli were so close to their goal. Most of the coding was already complete, and there were only a few final bugs to work out of the program that would, hopefully, allow Destiny to bypass the isolated module and power up the FTL drive. Another thirty minutes, maybe less, and they would have been finished. Destiny would have been on her way toward the next galaxy, leaving the Nakai in her dust. But they didn't have another thirty minutes. The Nakai were attacking now.

He had felt the fear and anger and distrust across his connection with Young, and he knew it was probably already too late to salvage that part of his life. Young suspected him now, and Rush couldn't even think of a way to defend himself. Young had a right to feel betrayed. Rush had brought the Nakai to his doorstep, and it didn't matter that he hadn't intended to. All that mattered was that he hadn't been honest with his bondmate, and now the whole crew might pay the price.

 _I didn't have a choice_ , he tried to tell himself. But the words rang hollow in his mind, mocking his cowardice. He'd made a choice when he'd set foot on this ship, knowing he was compromised. He'd made a choice when he hadn't warned Young about what was coming and thereby robbed him of the chance to prepare for it. He had gambled with other people's lives - that had been a _choice_.

The ship was rocked by an explosion, and Rush had to grab onto his console to stay upright. He looked around the small room where he worked alone. Eli and the rest of the science team were in the control interface room now, assisting in the defense of the ship. Rush had transferred his work to a console in another part of the ship where he could concentrate on his task. Not that it was easy to concentrate with a battle raging around him, but he knew how to work under pressure. He just needed a little bit more time.

His program was coming together. So far none of his test runs had been successful, but he thought that he had now isolated the problem. His fingers flew over the keys. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead and the back of his neck. His chest was tight, his breathing shallow. He could do this. He could still save them all.

The console suddenly gave off a shrill alarm. He paused long enough to find out the cause, and his heart started pounding even faster. _Fuck_. There had been a hull breach. Not caused by weapons fire - it looked too clean for that. Rush knew exactly how perfect and precise the Nakai's hull incisions could be.

Destiny had been boarded.

Rush began to tremble, but he kept working. His attention was now evenly divided between his coding and the bond. He drew all the strength he could from that bright, solid cord that linked his mind with Young's. He would _not_ let the Nakai have his mind again, no matter what happened.  No matter what they did to him. He would not be their weapon ever again.

More explosions. More chaos. Rush was growing numb to it all, even to the fear. Young's mind was a brutal thing on the other end of the bond, violent and determined and rigidly controlled. He was fascinating and marvelous and the bravest person Rush had ever met, and Rush wasn't going to let him die. Rush wasn't afraid any longer. At least, not for himself. His fingers steadied. He took a deep breath. The best apology he could ever make to Young would be to save him from this mess. If Young lived, nothing else really mattered.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor beyond. The door to Rush's little hideaway slid open and four tall, spindly figures walked into the room, weapons raised, their voice guttural and clicking. A peculiar sense of calm settled over Rush. He was going to die, but he wasn't going to let them break him first. The bond protected him.

They advanced on him, and he felt feather-light, exploratory touches on his mind as the Nakai tested the strength of his barriers. _You won't get in_ , he thought triumphantly. _But by all means, try_. _Give me the last few precious moments I need._

He sent one last message to Young via their link. _"Sorry. Love you."_

And then he activated his program.

 

* * *

 

Young felt his breath catch high in his throat at the message Rush spelled out in stuttery flickers of energy. There was still fear in the bursts, but it wasn't the same kind of terrified panic from before. This was... resigned, almost. The regret behind it was so strong, and Young had no idea what to make of the sliver of combative triumph he felt in there, but none of it was as overwhelming as the surge of longing affection that Rush sent him.

_Sorry. Love you._

Young barely had the time to feel the cold fingers of terror clench around his heart - it sounded like a goodbye, and what the fuck was happening to Rush? - before the ship creaked and everything momentarily shifted sideways as they jumped back into FTL.

A collective sigh of relief went through the room. Their escape had not come a moment too soon - Destiny would not have withstood much more damage from the enemy fire for long.

Young didn't have time to feel relieved, though. Rush was quiet on the other side of their link, and for a terrifying moment Young was afraid he was dead. But no, he was still there, fierce and scared and... in pain. Fuck, Rush was in pain, and he was trying not to transmit to Young because he, what? Wanted to protect him?

"Sir, we have a hull breach!" Scott called from his console. "I think we've been boarded."

Shit, the aliens were aboard the ship, _and they had Rush._ That's why he had been so distraught. They were going to... shit, they were going to kill Rush. Every cell in Young's being revolted at the idea.

"Scott, Greer, James, with me!" he ordered, taking his service rifle and letting the mental link to Rush guide his feet as fast as he could go.

He sent Rush a wave of what he hoped was calm reassurance, but was probably much closer to a distressed plea to hold on. To wait for him.

Rush barely responded, but the flicker of energy he sent Young felt more like a panicked push to stay away than anything else. Young ignored it.

 _"How many?"_ he asked over their connection.

 _"Four_ , _"_ Rush answered, and Young felt the desperation and the fear behind it. Rush felt out of it, almost lost to the pain the aliens were inflicting on him, but the quiet bursts of energy spelled out a message in terror and anguish that made Young's heart wrench painfully.

Armory first, Young decided, when he could think again over the pounding in his chest. Fuck, the last time he’d been this terrified he'd lost 37 people.

He couldn't think about that now. He had to focus on getting Rush back.

They were going to have to risk it, he was not going to let them kill Rush. He wasn't going to let them kill anyone, but most certainly not _Rush_. It was a lucky coincidence that the makeshift armory they'd set up when first coming here was not too far away from where he was now.

His entire being felt like an uneven summation of shaky panic and artificial calm as he grabbed two canisters of tear gas from one of the shelves of the armory.

Where were the gas masks? Shit, they weren't where they were supposed to be, and he didn't have time to track them down, not right now.

They'd have to make do without.

"Sir," Scott said, but it sounded like a question. Young knew Scott would probably follow him into the depths of hell if he asked him to, but he also knew Scott tended to have trouble following orders he didn't understand. He gritted his teeth and turned to him quickly.

"They've got Rush."

He could tell from the look on Scott's face that he was surprised, that he wanted to ask how Young could possibly know that, but he didn't have time to tell him about the bond, about the budding relationship... about _everything,_ so he turned on his heel and sprinted out of the dark room without further explanation.

Fuck, the aliens were torturing Rush - he could feel the muted pain and horror on the other side of the link - and none of this was even remotely okay. They were going to kill Rush if this kept up. Young willed himself to run faster, but it still took agonizing minutes to get to the small console room Rush had holed himself up in.

"There's four of them," he said to his team. "We need to take them out before they realize what's going on."

He waited for James, Scott and Greer to get into position, and flipped off the cap of the tear gas.

 _"Close your eyes_ , _"_ he tried to send Rush over their mental link, but by now his nerves were such a jumble he couldn't even be certain the message made it across intact. He didn't have time to wait, though, so he pressed his palm against the door control and threw the hissing cannister into the room. Shit, he prayed these aliens were as dependent on their eyes as humans were.

Within seconds the room filled up with stinging smoke, but not before Young raised his weapon and shot the alien that held its spindly fingers pressed against Rush's forehead. From beside him, he saw his team open fire as well. He heard the loud bangs of their shots around him.

All of it - the noise, the flare of the Nakai's weapons, the recoil of his own rifle against his shoulder - seemed to happen in slow motion. He heard James's voice shout in pain as enemy fire must have hit, but he didn't have time to turn around. Not right now.

Two of the Nakai went down before the tear gas managed to fill the room, and even without proper sight he found Rush unerringly, his form slumped and still in the middle of the floor. Young's eyes were stinging and tearing up, but when he felt the thin, creeping fingers close around his neck he didn't need sight - he just needed instinct - to throw the alien over his hip and overpower it before wrenching its head too far to the left. The sickening crack he felt under his fingers felt viciously rewarding, and he felt himself squeeze harder for a fraction of a second before he pushed away from the lifeless alien body to find Rush again.

He wanted to shout Rush's name, but his lungs were already closing up, filling with the gas and forcing him into a coughing fit as he searched for Rush's form. A sudden hit of pure panic hit him over their link, and Young barely had time to duck his face out of the way of a scorching laser beam.

 _Gotcha_ , he thought coldly, ignoring the hot, stinging pain in his shoulder as he brought his weapon up to fire in the direction of the last Nakai. He hit it, he could tell from the terrifying rattling scream it let out, and it didn't matter if it was a kill-shot or not, he had to get Rush out of here, _right this minute_.

His eyes were useless by now, and his entire diaphragm was spasming with deep coughs, but he followed the bond between them until he found Rush's body again and wrapped his arms tightly around him. Fuck, his shoulder was a burning mess of agony, but he didn't care as he dragged Rush out of the smoke-filled room.

He couldn't see anything through the watering in his eyes, he couldn't hear anything over the ringing in his ears, but he felt the overwhelming surge of relief and hope and fucking _love_ that Rush sent him before everything on his end of the connection went quiet.

Vaguely, he could hear James calling him, touching his arm before slumping against the wall with her fist pressed against her stomach, and as his fingers tried to find the main artery in Rush's throat to check for his heartbeat, he realized the fight was over.

They'd won.

Scott and Greer crouched in front of him and James, and slowly the hot rush of adrenaline started draining out of his system. Everything felt shaky and too fast, too jittery, and when his his vision managed to clear enough to see again, he could tell that Greer's hand was wet with blood when he withdrew it from Young's shoulder.

"Get them to the infirmary," Young mumbled, before everything went black.


	8. Chapter 8

Rush was conscious of the bond before anything else. The cord of vibrant, invisible light still hovered on the edge of his awareness, quiet, but strong. He visualized himself reaching out for it, clinging to it with all his feeble might, and some of his anxiety settled. The bond was a lifeline in a sea of trauma and regret. It dampened the lingering pain and brought with it the hope of healing. Last time he'd awakened after being tortured by the Nakai, he'd been alone. No bond. No Gloria. No escape from the landscape of horrors that his mind had become. But this time he had Young, whose subtle presence washed over their link like waves over sand. Whatever happened next, whatever Young did when he found out what Rush had done, at least Young was alive. At least Rush could feel his presence and know that he was safe.

His surroundings were quiet, except for occasional padding footsteps. It wasn't Young's tread, a fact that both relieved and disappointed him. But no, Rush's muted awareness of Young suggested a state of deep, peaceful sleep, so it couldn't be him moving about in any case.

Rush opened his eyes and raised himself up on his elbows to look around. He found himself on a cot in the infirmary, which really should have been his first guess, but sometimes he forgot about things like injuries and medicine. Was he hurt physically? He took a mental inventory of his anatomy and noted that his throat felt a bit raw. Had he been screaming? No, coughing. He'd forgotten about the gas.

The soft footsteps approached his bed and a gentle voice asked, "How are you feeling?"

Lieutenant Johansen's voice. She stood to one side of his cot, and when he glanced at her, he spotted Young's still, shirtless form on the bed beside his own.

"I'm fine," he murmured, looking past her. Young's face appeared smoother and softer in sleep. His lips were just barely parted, and his chest rose and fell with his slow, deep breaths. Rush found himself fascinated by the sight.

"He'll be all right," Johansen said, noting the direction of Rush's intent gaze. "He woke up a few hours ago while I was wrapping his wound, so I gave him something to numb the pain and help him sleep."

"Wound?" Rush repeated, and yes, now he could see the bandage on Young's opposite shoulder. Young had been wounded while saving him. Gratitude warred with guilt inside him, and he squeezed his eyes shut as if that would somehow eradicate the existence of Young's injury.

"It's not as bad as the bandages make it look," Johansen assured him. "He got lucky."

Somehow, that didn't quite soothe the ache in Rush's chest. He didn't like knowing he had something as irrational and finicky as _luck_ to thank for the fact that he hadn't gotten his bondmate killed.

The heat of a palm against his forehead made him open his eyes. "Are you sure you feel all right?" Johansen asked, frowning down at him.

"My injuries are of another sort," he muttered, pulling away from her touch. "You can't help with them."

Johansen let her hand drop to her side. "I can listen, if you need to talk to someone."

Rush shook his head and looked back at the silent figure on the other cot. "I just need him to wake up."

Johansen regarded him thoughtfully for a few moments. He could see her out of the corner of his eyes, watchful and still, but whether she was considering his words or still worrying over the state of his health, he couldn't surmise, nor did he particularly care. Young drew most of his attention. He had been prepared to lose Young. He'd been prepared to die. A physical death first, destroying the matter in which his spiritual essence resided, and then a true death as the Nakai's psychic tech devoured what was left of his traumatized consciousness. But it hadn't happened. Young had saved him. And now Young was lying on a cot in the infirmary, and that was Rush's fault, as was all the damage Destiny had sustained in her recent fight.

Rush needed to talk to Young. He needed to explain himself. He needed… he needed his heart to stop thudding with agitation and his gut to stop twisting with guilt and his mind to stop circling around the same bloody useless questions.

"Wake him up, then," Johansen said finally, "if you need to."

Rush needed to.

He rolled out of bed, ignoring the way the rapid motion made his head throb in protest, and sat on the edge of Young's cot. He heard Johansen's retreating footsteps, but his eyes remained on Young's face.

A frown settled over Young's features, and Rush's awareness of him sharpened. Little pulses of discomfort, confusion, and worry reached him through the bond. Young made a soft, disgruntled sound, and opened his eyes. His gaze immediately fell upon Rush, and the bond hummed with his pleasure and relief. It made Rush's heart ache.

"You're okay?" were the first words out of Young's mouth.

"Fine," Rush murmured. "Seems you weren't so fortunate."

"A graze," Young said gruffly. "I'm a little charred, that's all."

"It's hurting you."

The little slivers of pain that Young had been transmitting through the link stopped abruptly. Rush narrowed his eyes. "Hiding it doesn't work once I've already felt it."

Young's lips curved into an unrepentant smile. Despite any physical distress he might be experiencing, his eyes were bright with satisfaction, even joy. "It's really not that bad," he promised.

Rush's heart gave another twinge as he stared at that triumphant, smiling face. He didn't know why Young seemed so happy, or why affection still flowed across their link as if nothing had happened. He couldn't figure out why he hadn't already been subjected to a barrage of questions and accusations. He knew that Young suspected him of being involved in the Nakai attack - that had been obvious from his emotions during the battle. So what had changed since then?

"We should talk," Rush said, absently skimming his fingers over the hairs on Young's bare arm until Young looked down and drew his attention to it. Rush swallowed and pulled his hand back into his lap.

Young's smile faded, along some of his warmer emotions. "Yeah," he agreed quietly, "but in private. Not here."

He sat up with a grunt, drawing Johansen's notice. "How's the shoulder?" she asked, approaching his cot.

"Better."

"Is the painkiller wearing off?"

Young slid out of bed now and started looking around for his missing shirt and jacket. "Seems okay for now."

A little wrinkle of concern appeared between her brows. "You really need to rest if you want that thing to heal quickly. I'm not saying that you have to stay here, but--"

"I'm just going to my quarters, TJ," Young said.

Johansen seemed willing enough to accept that answer. She walked away again, leaving Rush to find Young's clothing and awkwardly assist him in getting dressed without aggravating his wound. By the time Young was dressed, she had reappeared with a metal cup in hand. Rush suspected that there was aspirin leaf powder in it. She confirmed as much when she held it out to Young and said, "One for for road. Make sure you take it _before_ the pain becomes unbearable. And try not to move that arm so much."

"Yes, Lieutenant," Young said dryly, taking the cup.

 

* * *

 

Rush leaned back against the closed door of Young's quarters and watched as his bondmate settled himself comfortably on his bed. On the whole, Young looked very alert for someone who had sustained a painful injury and was still under the influence of a mild drug. He had been steady on his feet as they'd made their way through Destiny's corridors, if somewhat sluggish. Rush had tried to tamp down on his impatience with their slow progress, because he knew that Young had gone through all the effort of moving for his sake, so they wouldn't have to discuss Rush's actions in public. Rush's confession was for Young's ears only, and Young had seemed to understand that.

But now that they were in Young's room, Rush was finding it hard to decide how to start the conversation. Should he begin by explaining his role in sabotaging the FTL drive? Should he first talk about what the Nakai had done to him while he was in captivity? Or was all of that just a distraction from the real issue - the fact that he had either omitted the truth or outright lied to Young on multiple occasions? Would Young respond best to excuses, or to an acknowledgement of blame? He wasn't sure. As much as he had come to love his bondmate, there were still too many things he didn't know or understand about him.

"This isn't a courtroom, Rush," Young said softly. "You're not on trial." He was propped up in bed with his back to the wall and his legs stretched out before him. He looked both weary and dignified, a wounded warrior after a glorious victory.

"Aren't I?" Rush asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He had a feeling he looked more like a cowering rodent than a warrior, but he didn't feel like moving further into the room. Something about having an escape route at his back was comforting.

Young's gaze trailed over him. His eyes were half-lidded, but Rush knew they were keener than they appeared. Rush wondered whether he was being assessed, or merely put in his place. Young was intimidating like this, despite his relaxed posture and quiet, steady voice.

"You hate the Nakai," Young said after a moment.

Rush frowned slightly. That wasn't quite what he'd been expecting Young to lead with, but it was true enough. "Yes."

"So you don't have a reason to help them."

Rush swallowed and hugged himself a little tighter. "No," he agreed. He was glad to have that fact established, at least. The thought of working for the Nakai of his own free will made his stomach lurch unpleasantly. It was nice to know Young didn't think him capable of it.

"But," Young pressed on, "You _did_ break the FTL drive."

Rush's voice didn't want to work, so he simply nodded. The conversation wasn't unfolding quite the way he had expected, but he didn't know what to do about it. He hadn't intended to let Young do all the talking. Didn't he need to defend himself, or at the very least, _explain_ himself so that Young wouldn't decide to dump him at the first viable planet they reached in the next galaxy? Why was it so hard to speak? Where had all his words gone?

And why did Young still look so calm?

"When I found you that day, you were sick," Young continued as if Rush hadn't just admitted to betraying the whole crew and damaging the ship he professed to love. "You told me that it was my fault, because I was suppressing our bond. Isn't that right?"

The bond was eerily quiet now, reminding Rush too much of the weak, pathetic thread it had once been. He wanted to reach out and renew the flow of warmth and emotions that had existed between them for the past few weeks, but he was simultaneously too scared and too proud to be the initiator. He didn't like this. If a bleak, silent bond was to be his punishment, it was an effective one. His heart clenched painfully in the echoing stillness.

"It wasn't that," he admitted, letting his eyes drop to the floor. "You didn't make me sick, Colonel. At least, not directly. It was them. But I couldn't tell you that."

"Them? You mean the Nakai?"

Rush nodded silently, feeling cold. Instinctively he checked on that barren little corner of his mind that the Nakai had warped to their purpose. There was not a trace of their presence left, but the memory of being in their power was bad enough to make him shiver.

Young's voice was incredibly gentle as he asked, "Rush, is it possible you could have been brainwashed while you were with them? Are you… susceptible to that sort of thing?"

Rush closed his eyes and covered them with his hand as if that would block out the memories. He thought he might be sick again if he tried to explain… but he didn't have a choice. At least it seemed like Young might be willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. That helped enormously.

"It's… different for my people," He forced out. "We have defenses against what you call 'brainwashing.' But psychic creatures can harm each others in ways non-psychics can't, and I suppose it amounts to the same thing. In my case, the Nakai planted a seed of influence in my mind and it didn't take root until I came aboard Destiny. Before that, I knew something was wrong with me - my mind didn't feel quite right in ways I couldn't articulate - but I never guessed the scale of their power over me until…"

"Until you sabotaged the drive."

"Yes." He hated admitting it. Hated acknowledging that those bastards had ever used him as their soulless puppet. Hated knowing how very helpless he could be without a strong bond to protect him. If Young wasn't angry at him, he must at least be disgusted by his frailty, and Rush could hardly blame him for that. But as much as he despised it, that frailty was part of his heritage. His people were thinkers and builders, not fighters. On their homeworld they formed a collective consciousness that could repel any attack, but separated, they usually relied on bonds to protect their minds. They were vulnerable. Dependent. Weak. He yearned for the strong sense of individuality and self-determination that humans seemed to possess. They were cognitively inferior, yes, but that might be worth it in exchange for self-sufficiency.

"Can they still control you?" Young asked.

Rush shook his head. "Not now. Not since we began to strengthen the bond."

There was a long pause, and then Young said softly, "So ultimately the bond was the problem after all."

Rush lowered his hand and opened his eyes, curious to see Young's face. He looked tired and rueful and sad, and it was clear that any anger he was feeling wasn't directed at Rush. He wasn't even looking at Rush now. He seemed to be staring at the opposite wall, but his eyes were glassy and distant.

"Not directly," Rush said again.

"A stronger bond would have taken care of the issue."

Rush felt a flicker of annoyance. He saw what Young was getting at now, and as little as he wanted to shoulder the blame for this fucked up situation, he was was not about to let Young do so in his place. For once, his pride objected to taking the easy way out. Or maybe it wasn't pride at all - maybe he just wanted to wipe that expression off of Young's face. "If we're playing the 'what if' game," he pointed out, "None of this would have happened if I hadn't come aboard knowing I was compromised."

Young's eyes sharpened and he turned back toward Rush. "That's true."

Rush swallowed. He hadn't expected such easy agreement from Young, who seemed to enjoy a certain degree of self-flagellation. He wondered if he had just been lured into a trap.

"Of course, I didn't know how bad it was," he backpedaled. "If I had, I might have…" Here, Rush trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence. What might he have done? Would he really have given up his dream if he'd known the truth? It was hard to say, and part of him was glad he hadn't faced that choice. He didn't want to know what his decision under those hypothetical circumstances would reveal about him.

"Destiny was everything to me," he continued more quietly. "We learned from the seed ship's database that she was coming. I was determined that when she arrived in our system, I would find some way to study her. I wasn't eager to look for reasons to abandon that goal."

Young nodded thoughtfully. "So it never occurred to you that by linking yourself to another person, you might expose them to whatever was wrong with your own mind?" he asked.

The question was like a punch to Rush's gut. He nearly doubled over with it, his nausea spiking again and his head pulsing with pain. Oh, fuck. No, he'd never considered that. Never once had he wondered if the damage to his own mind could migrate across their link and infect Young. But why not? They were bound together psychically, a powerful connection that could only be severed by death. Why couldn't the Nakai have co-opted the bond, weak and vulnerable as it had been, and used it for their own purposes? That might have been their plan from the moment Rush boarded Destiny. Take control of Rush, then use him to deliver Destiny into their hands and the human commander right along with her.

Maybe killing Young to destroy the bond hadn't been their object. Maybe they'd just wanted another puppet instead.

"Rush?" Young' sharp voice penetrated the haze of horror that had descended upon Rush's mind and clouded all of his senses. Rush drew in a sharp breath and came back to himself. He had slid to the floor and was now curled up against the cold door. Across the room, Young was struggling up, wincing at the pain in his shoulder as he got out of bed. "Rush!" he said again, his voice insistent and grounding.

The bond came alive suddenly. Warmth and concern flowed across it, and a bit of the terror receded from Rush's mind. Young was here. He was safe, and the bond was strong, too strong for the Nakai to manipulate. Past potential was not present reality - it couldn't hurt them now.

"Get back in bed," Rush whispered as Young approached.

Young ignored the order. "You look like you're about to pass out," he muttered, carefully kneeling down in front of him. "Guess that answers my question."

Rush met his eyes. "It hadn't occurred to me," he acknowledged. His heart was still racing with anxiety, and his imagination wouldn't quite let go of the mental image of Young as a Nakai pawn, with hollow eyes and subservient attitude. "I'm sorry," he said as rising tears turned his vision blurry.

Young reached out to gently rub his thumbs under Rush's eyes, dashing away the moisture. "I know," he said kindly. "I just wish you'd told me the truth earlier."

"I didn't trust you," Rush murmured. "I didn't know what you'd do." He blinked, squeezing out two  more tears, and Young wiped those away, too.

"Do you trust me now?"

Rush nodded. What other answer was there? He'd just made some rather terrible confessions, and yet here Young was, comforting him through his distress. If he couldn't trust Young, he'd never be able to trust anyone. Young might be disappointed with him, but Rush was pretty sure he wasn't about to throw Rush out an airlock or maroon him on a planet. These soft touches were not those of an angry, vindictive man. Against all odds, it seemed that Rush was truly safe. It was an extraordinary feeling. He was free. There was nothing further to hide.

"And what you said to me when the Nakai found you," Young pressed, "did you mean that? You love me?"

Rush caught his breath and almost looked away, overwhelmed by the intensity of Young's gaze. He quashed the impulse. It wouldn't do to falter now and give Young the wrong impression. For his part, Young seemed almost startled that he had asked the question, but it was evident from his expression that he was eager for an answer. What did that say about his feelings? He must be fond of Rush to forgive him so readily, but that was all Rush had ever felt from him - fondness. Nothing like the terrifying devotion that Rush had come to feel for him, an emotion so wild and vast and all-encompassing that it felt like space itself, and he was just a tiny starship exploring its infinite wonders.

They stared at each other like that for several interminable seconds while Young waited and Rush tried to collect his wits. In the end, he didn't bother with eloquence. He was safe. He was free. Simple truths would suffice.

"I did," he whispered as a fragile smile tugged at the corners of his lips, "and I do."

 

* * *

 

Jesus.

Rush... He said it so plainly, with so much conviction, that there was no doubt in Young's mind that he meant it. He loved Young. Really, honestly _loved_ him.

There didn't seem to be much of a point to hiding his own feelings any longer, because God... Rush was here, and he was alive, and both of them had somehow made it past this terrible thing unharmed. Or, well. Mostly unharmed, at least.

"Rush," he said, lowering his fingers a bit so he could stroke them through his scruffy beard.

The aliens that had taken Rush's mind hostage, the way they'd used him to sabotage Destiny... It wasn't an issue anymore. Not if he could just keep the bond strong and healthy.

He was pretty sure that wouldn't be a problem, because Christ, the way his heart was beating right now, the way everything but the sight of Rush's wet eyes and the feel of his soft skin beneath his fingertips seemed utterly unimportant... He was in love with the man. No question about it.

"I..." he said, but for some reason it wasn't quite so easy to say what he had meant to say. "I'm never going to let you get hurt again."

It was ridiculously inadequate, but that small, broken smile on Rush's lips still broadened a little, and he reached up his own arms to cup Young's face between them.

"I know," he said, and then Young was kissing him, soft and hard and desperate and glad, everything jumbled together in a terrible contradiction that felt as good as it made the wound in his shoulder twinge with pain.

"Young," Rush breathed, when he drew away. Young could tell Rush was as reluctant to part from him as he was to leave the warm cavity of Rush's mouth. "You should really be in bed."

Young groaned and let his head fall forward to lean against Rush's cheek. He'd been waiting for this for so long, and just now that he'd finally gotten it his own body was sabotaging him. He didn't want to stop now. He didn't want to allow time and distance between them, because he still hadn't told Rush what he needed to tell him. And while Rush appeared to be willing to look past that for the moment, he might not be quite as forgiving in a day or two.

"Come to bed with me?" he asked.

Rush looked almost painfully eager as he nodded and helped Young up from his crouch, and Young couldn't ignore the way his heart swelled with the incoming surges of desire, and gratitude, and _love_.

"Rush," he said again, and really, he wasn't even sure what he was going to say anymore. All he knew was that Rush was holding him up, guiding him back to bed, helping him undress and climbing in under the covers next to him to curl against his uninjured side. He looked exhausted, wrung out and raw, but the small quirk at the corner of his lips and the way he stroked his fingertips in soft circles over the skin of Young's wrist spoke of a quiet contentment as well.

He had no idea how to say it, how to form it into words and how to force those words out of his heart and into his throat without choking on them, so he didn't use words. He sent it to Rush over their bond. Everything he felt, all the affection, and the concern, and the want... all the _love_. He gathered it together and he transmitted it to Rush, and Rush's reaction was beautiful. He physically shivered and lifted his head to look up at Young, and then he sent back his own wave of emotions.

God, Rush's love was staggering. Overwhelming and deep and so much bigger than Young could ever have put into words. Young reached out his hand, careful not to upset his hurt shoulder, and brushed his fingers over Rush's cheekbone before sliding them into his hair.

Rush sent him a question, not one of confusion but one for permission, and Young could feel the barely contained need behind it as if it was his own. Maybe it was.

"C'mere," he said with a small smile. Rush kissed him, slow and sweet and obviously holding back.

Young curled his fingers tighter into Rush's hair and pulled the kiss deeper, wetter, more heated. He'd been wanting to do this for such a long time, and having those brushes of love flicker against his mind was having an amazing effect on his body. Despite the wound, despite the fact that he probably still had some of TJ's opiates in his system, his cock was filling out quickly.

Maybe this wasn't the best idea. Maybe starting this right now, with his injury still fresh and basically invaliding him, was really fucking stupid. But damn, he wanted Rush. He'd been jerking off to the memory of what they'd done that night in Rush's quarters for weeks. Now that everything was finally settled between them, now that he didn't have to feel guilty about his wife, now that neither one of them was in danger of dying or being kidnapped, a simple flesh wound wasn't going to stop him.

"Young," Rush moaned. He was draped halfway over Young's body, now, leg slung across Young's thighs in a way that made it very obvious he was well underway to full hardness as well. "Lieutenant Johansen said you needed rest."

"I need _this_ ," Young growled, hoisting Rush's leg further across him until Rush had no choice but to scramble on top of him.

"Yeah," Young said as their erections rubbed against each other. There was too much fabric between them, it was in the way, and Young surged forward to strip off Rush’s shirts. His shoulder twinged in warning, and Rush must have seen something on his face - or maybe he'd felt it over their connection - but he pushed Young back against the mattress and pulled off his own vest and shirts.

" _You_ need to rest," he said, crouching down over Young and placing a trail of slow, wet kisses down the line of his throat. Young let his head fall back against his pillow and allowed Rush to lavish attention on his neck. "Let me."

The jolts of energy Rush sent him through their link were filled with wonder and lust, and it made Young's head spin with how good it was to have this psychic contact in the setting of this. In the setting of sex. Because right now he did not have to hide the way his skin flushed at the sensation of being kissed all over, or the way his dick twitched at the idea that all of these emotions were for _him_.

"Young," Rush said, drawing back after licking a quick stripe over Young's nipple. The cold air in the room pebbled it almost immediately. Young blinked his eyes open – he hadn't realized he'd closed them - and looked down to see Rush staring up at him. "I want to have sex with you."

Young huffed out a breath, and brought up his hand to stroke through Rush's hair again. God, he loved Rush's hair.

"That does seem to be the direction we're taking this in," he answered, amusement clear in his voice.

A flicker of something irritated and embarrassed crossed over the link between them, and Rush leaned down to bite his nipple just a tad too hard. Young wanted to laugh at the reaction, but all that came out was a deep groan.

"I _mean_ ," Rush said, enunciating his words very clearly. "I want you to fuck me."

Jesus Christ. Where had Rush even picked that up? He'd obviously never had sex before Young came into his quarters that one night. Not as a human, anyway. He'd never been touched, never been breached, in quite that physical a way before. How the hell did he even know it was something people did?

God, and it wasn't like Young was an expert on it, either. He'd done it a few times, with Emily, but not nearly often enough to consider himself very experienced on the subject.

Still, the thought of it... The idea of getting inside Rush, of Rush letting him in, of Rush moaning and coming with Young all the way inside of him... Goddamn, yeah, his dick was more than interested in that. Not just his dick either, if he was honest. He understood why Rush asked. He understood why Rush wanted it, because he wanted it, too. He wanted that closeness, that intimacy. And fuck it, it wasn't rocket science, was it? And even if it was, he was sure Rush could figure it out.

"I need... You need..." he said, gesturing at the nightstand with his good hand. "Lubricant."

Rush followed his instructions quickly enough, climbing over him to retrieve the small bottle of lube without a word. When he settled back over him, Young pulled him forward until his knees were nestled right under his armpits and his weight rested on top of his belly button. Rush's eyes glittered with curiosity as Young flipped the cap off the bottle and squeezed some lube onto his fingers.

Young couldn't see what he was doing, so he felt his way across Rush's ass until he could rub a few slick circles over his opening. Christ, he was really going to do this. They were really going to do this. He kept his eyes focused on Rush's face and kept his attention tethered to the bond, determined to notice right away if something was wrong. If Rush wanted him to stop.

Rush sent him a quick flare of anticipation and arousal, and Young pressed his index finger inside. Fuck, that was hot. So was the little sound that Rush made as he did it, a breathy ' _oh_ ,' that reminded him starkly of their first night together. Rush had been so appreciative, so surprised. It had been downright addictive.

"Good?" he asked, moving his finger in and out at a slow, careful pace.

"Yeah," Rush said, clearly a little distracted by the way Young was feeling his way inside of him. "More."

Young obliged, watched Rush's eyes widen a little, and continued to prepare him for the... Christ, for the actual fucking. By the time he had three fingers inside Rush, stretching and opening him up until he was pliant enough to take Young's dick, Rush was moving his hips and humming little sounds as his eyes kept slipping shut. Young couldn't help but wonder what it must be like, being invaded like that. His body being worked open to make room for someone else, another person, inside. Apparently Rush enjoyed the feeling a lot.

"Does it hurt?" Young heard himself ask. He hadn't been planning on saying that. Hadn't even been consciously aware of forming the words in his mind. Rush opened his eyes and sent him a quick wave of reassurance and pleasure over their bond.

"No," he said with a slight smile and a flush high up on his cheeks. "It feels really good."

"I think you're ready," Young said, scissoring his fingers wide one final time. If Rush could accommodate that, he could take Young's cock. Jesus.

Rush groaned and heaved a deep breath when Young pressed in hard against his prostate before pulling out his fingers. He kept quiet for a few seconds, panting harshly and squeezing his eyes shut, and Young wasn't quite sure what was the matter.

"Are you okay?" he asked, suddenly worried he'd done something wrong.

"I'm good," Rush bit out, letting his clammy palms run over Young's chest in a way that seemed almost involuntary. "I just need... I need a little time."

Suddenly Rush pushed himself upwards and moved lower until his face was right in front of Young's crotch. Young couldn't stifle a surprised sound when Rush sucked his cock into his mouth without any further type of warning. Fuck, it was good, the warm slick walls of Rush's cheeks, his lips, his tongue... It was Rush, pressing kisses against the head of his dick, lapping long lines of wet heat over his shaft, flicking gentle licks over his slit to take in the drop of precome that welled up on his tip.

It felt good, so good, to receive Rush's swelling surges of emotion directly into his mind. To have Rush's mouth on him like this, unhurried and not setting a pace, simply showing his adoration in a way that Young could easily understand. He moaned deeply and sent Rush his own bursts of astonished pleasure over their connection, and let himself sink into the sensations washing over him in hot strokes of desire.

It was odd, the gradual awareness that that smooth shell of Rush's mind was pressing up against his own again. Maybe, Young realized, mapping the edges with careful admiration, it had been here all along. Like the bridge of your nose - always _there_ , to the point where you stop even noticing it at all.

Here, up close like this, it was impossible not to be aware of the desperate longing that radiated outwards from Rush despite the fact that he was trying to contain it. Rush wanted it, and he knew that Young knew that he wanted it, and Young... fuck, Young wanted it too. Rush moaned and swallowed around his cock, and Young felt a sound of his own fall out of his mouth.

It wasn't even a conscious choice, just like the first time - he simply pushed forward, _inside_ , and for a few seconds or hours or _years_ everything else stopped existing. It was him, and Rush, and nothing but their entire beings mingling together in a hot surge of belonging.

This was everything he'd been scared of, and more, because it was _everything_ . Rush’s being laved at him, washed over him in a warm tide of love and acceptance and... God, it was like being in a womb, protected, and cared for, and _safe_ . When was the last time he’d felt like this? Had he _ever_ felt like this? A raw swell of emotion flowed through him, something like grief and sorrow colored by relief and gladness, and he wasn't sure whether that was Rush or him, but it made him want to burrow even deeper into Rush. God, he hadn’t felt anything this strongly since longer than he could remember. Had anyone ever loved him like this? This was... He couldn't...

A soft touch against his cheek jarred him into the awareness that he still had a body. That he was more than just this interconnected consciousness that was melded into Rush. Rush stroked his thumb under Young's eye carefully, like Young had done for him. That seemed like a lifetime ago, but it was probably less than an hour. His vision was slightly blurry, and Rush gave him a look that Young could've read flawlessly even if they hadn't been joined at the... at the everything.

"You're crying," Rush said, his voice barely more than an awed whisper. Young did not know how to respond. He didn't even know if he had quite the capacity to say anything right now. Thankfully Rush didn't seem to be looking for an answer. He simply leaned forward and kissed Young's face, his eyes and his nose and his cheeks, until Young felt himself calm down from the sudden overload of emotions.

"I want..." Rush said, and Young knew what he wanted. He could see it, he could _feel_ it, through every inch of their beings, and he nodded shakily before surging forward and pushing his tongue into Rush's mouth once more. He wanted it, too.

Young’s arousal hadn't waned in the slightest when his emotions had gotten the best of him. If anything, it was more insistent now, and he felt his cock pulse out another wet drip of precome at the thought of being inside Rush. _More_ inside Rush.

When Rush pulled back, Young couldn't help the strong surge of reverence running through him. How had he gotten here? How had he found someone as beautiful and perfect as Rush? What had he done so right in his life to deserve this, this moment, this _man_ , and everything he was feeling right now?

Rush smiled at him like he could hear him - and Young supposed in a way he _could_ , with their minds swirled together like this - and let his fingers trail slowly down Young's throat.

"I love you," Rush said again, and this time Young didn't even feel the slightest twinge of _'it's just the bond, it's artificial_ , _'_ that he'd been experiencing every step of the way since they'd first unhooked hands after the bonding ceremony.

Rush loved him, there was no doubt about that - there was no room for doubt, not with them linked together and rustling through each other's consciousnesses like this. Rush loved him, and he loved Rush.

He barely took notice of the way Rush curled a lube-slick palm around his dick before perching down on top of him. Not even physical pleasure could fully override the pure bliss that was his mind right now.

"I love you too." The words tumbled out as Rush sank down on his cock, and fuck, the sound Rush made wasn't just from being entered, he could feel it through their connection. Young hadn't intended to say it. He hadn't thought he needed to - not after sharing everything he had, everything he _was_ , with Rush. But apparently it still meant something to Rush to hear it, because the singing thrum over their bond, that was Rush. And all that sparkling, bright emotion was for Young.

Rush was everywhere, now. Not just in his head, in his _being_ , but around him, as well. He was hot and snug and slippery, and Young couldn't help but buck up wildly into him as Rush pressed back down against him.

"Fuck," he moaned, and Rush groaned an agreement in response before lifting himself up and sinking back down again.

It was unlike anything he'd ever done before. Nothing could have prepared him for the overwhelming truth of being inside someone not just physically, but mentally as well. Rush must have had some more experience with this, seeing as he was of a psychic species, seeing as he'd been bonded before, but his face and the incredulous wonder running through every part of his mind told Young that this was new and unexpectedly bewildering for him too.

God, Rush was beautiful like this, straddling Young, riding him, _taking_ him. His hands found purchase on Young's abdomen, and the hot brands of them against his skin grounded Young as much as it intensified that feeling of being on a different plane of existence altogether.

Before long, they found a rhythm. A quick, purposeful slide of flesh against flesh - flesh _inside_ flesh – and the building sense of physical pleasure lined up neatly with the building sense of climax between the tattering shreds of their beings. It felt like he was being ripped apart into smaller and smaller fragments, and each snippet of him mixed in more fully with Rush until all he knew was Rush and their bodies and the overwhelming presence of their feelings for each other.

"Show me your real name," he panted, because he'd wanted to know since the moment they met, and this was how Rush could finally tell him.

A bright flare of a glittering humming sound rumbled through him, and fuck, yes, that was Rush's name, and it was beautiful. Young groaned, hips stuttering up in a frantic burst of passion, and then he was coming - not just his body, but _everything_. He felt unreal, unmade, every cell of his body turned inside out with white hot pleasure, and the exploding fire tickling all the way through his being let him know Rush had followed him right over that edge as well.

It was impossible to determine how long he stayed there, floating and falling and not just a him but a _them_ , but he gradually became aware of his breath, panting and harsh in his own ears. Rush crashed against him, body limp and heaving deeply against the skin of his throat, and Young had to concentrate with all his might to sling his good arm around Rush's back.

They were still inside each other. He could still feel everything Rush was feeling, everything Rush was thinking, and he couldn't imagine ever being able to let that go.

Fuck, he couldn't imagine anything but this moment, right now, stretching out into an eternity between them.

As his heartbeat finally skidded back to a more normal rate, as his lungs finally stopped feeling like they didn't have the capacity to take in all the oxygen he needed to survive, as his cock finally started to soften inside Rush's body, he could feel his being stitching itself back up. Tiny bits and pieces joining together again to form a whole that somehow felt stronger, better, more intact, because it was infused with particles of Rush. The knowledge that it felt the same for Rush made a hard shudder run through him.

"Rush," he said, because he couldn't think of anything else to say. Frankly, there didn't seem to be anything else _to_ say. Ever, maybe. He only now became aware of his fingers gripping into the muscle of Rush's shoulders like a drowning man clinging to a life-raft. He forced himself to loosen his hold and let his fingers run apologetic circles over Rush's skin instead.

Rush didn't say anything, just sent him another wave of unadulterated love over their connection, and pressed a soft kiss into his neck.

They were exhausted. His mind had reassembled itself, but that tough, silky lining hadn't been reset over their beings yet, and he could still feel every part of Rush against him. They were exhausted, and they were going to sleep, and they were never going to let go of each other.

Rush traced a drowsy touch against the edge of Young's bandage, and Young buried his nose deeper into Rush's hair.

They were here. They were alive. They were together.

Everything else could wait until tomorrow.


End file.
